Human - Phan
by isthisjustphantasy
Summary: Phan (with a little kickthestickz) dan's POV - college au. Dan is a dancer, but it is his best kept secret. Moving to a new college results in new friends, new hobbies and a new outlook in life. A series of strange and seemingly unconnected events unfold that all seem to link back to Dan's mysterious new boyfriend!11!one! ETCETERA phan isn't real, generic plea for reviews
1. Chapter 1

_HUMAN_

* * *

Close your eyes. Clear your heart.

Cut the cord.

* * *

My legs move without signal from my brain the moment the music starts. My eyes are wide, moving through the studio one step ahead of the rest of me. It's a kind of breathless excitement. There's a surge of energy, a pulse running through me. It's hard to explain.

But every dancer feels it. It's what we live for.

My name's Dan Howell. I'm 16, and my greatest passion is my greatest secret.

* * *

X

* * *

"Step ball change step ball change accent **accent**! Wait 4, 5 and HIT IT! Contract - I want to see you all hit this jeté with your heads and – HEADS! - watch that foot! "

My heart is pounding; I can barely hear Miss Jodie and the other dancers are invisible. It's just me and the music now. Every position I hit, every jump and every turn, I feel a surge of endorphins. It's the feeling of getting it right, knowing exactly where you're going, stretching, pointing, twisting... it's a feeling of strength and power. Just my body and the music. And sometimes I feel like I can almost fly.

I leave the class in a daze, my eyes adjusting to the dimly lit corridor after the bright lights and mirrors of the studio. My pulse is still racing and I have that grin on my face. I feel invincible. If only for a few minutes; three days a week.

* * *

On the notice board outside the studio people have pinned scraps of paper under the heading 'What does it feel like to dance?' It's probably Miss Katie's idea, but I think it's kinda cool. And it hits home.

_"Dance is what keeps me going: it's the sanity; it's my escape from everything else and my chance to focus on me and what I can do. It's about improving myself, for myself, and not worrying about anyone else. Dancing is freedom."_

I slip into the changing rooms, barely noticed by the other dancers stretching gratuitously and glaring through narrowed eyes at anyone with the audacity to be more flexible than them. I change quickly; wander out into the night. It's these walks home that seal it all in place. It's my thinking time, in the cool night air, where I choreograph my own sequences – barely able to keep my feet on the ground. Sometimes I'll get too into it and do some sort of convoluted jerk as I walk, knocking the headphones out of my ears and turning bright red as I check to make sure no one noticed.

_"It makes me feel like I am the only one in the world. I am so involved that I don't notice the time or anything, only my song and the steps. It's like I am on my own little planet. If the music is especially good, like my song this year, I can feel it down to my soul! It is so good it almost makes me cry! I feel it from the top of my head to the tips of my toes."_

I cool off. I'm 'pumped' however much I hate the word, and so awake. I notice things most people don't, the delicious shade of green of the trees that frame the street. The birds that sing in this dappled twilight. Everything is moving. Everything is dancing, in its own way, to the rhythm of the earth.

Of course, I would never say this out loud. I only ever think it in these moments anyway. Mostly, I'm a sarcastic asshole who hisses at sunlight and hates clichés and anyone who takes themselves too seriously- etc. Etc. But that's why I love dance so much – I can relax from the persona; indulge - if only for a while - in my guilty pleasure.

I slip in unnoticed through the front door, slip into my bedroom and resume the gaming position I left two hours ago. Soon, I slip into sleep.

_ "I have never been more beautiful than when I am dancing. And I don't mean aesthetically, I mean powerful, I guess. It awakens your body and you become the dance. You pour everything you have and everything you are into every spin."_

They're all true, if horrifically clichéd, but it really **is **hard to put in words. You're panting, you're working your body but it doesn't feel like exercise. Not really. To quote Billy Eliot – it's electricity. It makes you feel alive in a way very little else does. And that's why I dance. Because without it, I don't feel anything at all.

* * *

X

* * *

School is mundane. But I get through it.

* * *

It was a Wednesday, which meant 'physical education'. I'd always found that kinda funny – it sounded as if they were going to slip into the _sex talk_ at any minute; or start explaining the wonders of 'your changing body' with a tortured expression and clenched fists. What it really meant though was running in circles for 50 minutes in a muddy field and then a freezing cold and self conscious shower in the vicious arena of life that was the _communal changing rooms_. _  
_

As soon as the word 'football' left Mr Davis' lips I was searching for escape. While physically in better shape than most of my classmates, contact sports were not my forte. I guess it's something about the idea of running directly at someone with the intent of getting your shins kicked (secondary school PE teachers tended to take a blind eye to the full body tackles and muddy wrestling matches that ineviteably followed) but without the full body armour the americans manage to get away with. I can't imagine why that would be.

As we filed out into the muddy field with a clatter of studs on tarmac I caught the coach's eye, surreptitiously trying to pull him aside.

"I er can't do PE today sir. Er, personal problem."

I'd seen this trick work hundreds of times with girls, but I just got a bark of stale laughter in my face.

"Oh _really_. Care to elaborate, Howell?"

Too surprised that Mr Davis new the meaning of the word 'elaborate' to take much offence at his mocking tone, I searched desperately for an answer.

"I um can't really say sir it's uh... _personal_."

I tried not to catch his eye, adopting my best 'frail and invalided' stance.

I could feel his incredulity beating down on my bent neck.

"Howell. I really didn't have you cut as the kind of guy to be getting enough pussy to have THAT kind of problem. Or maybe it's a faggot disease." He laughed loudly at his own joke, and I could feel my cheeks burning.

"Maybe I should make you go to the nurse and prove it..."

He let me squirm for a moment before sighing.

"But I can't be arsed with the paperwork. You'll just have to sit it out with Lester, provided you'll have made a full recovery by next week."

"Yes, of course sir. Thanks." I tried to smother my grin as I skipped over to the shade of a large oak tree where a tall boy with coal black hair lay sprawled barefoot on the grass with his face to the sky.

As I approached, he raised a hand to shield his eyes – squinting into the sunlight.

"You don't look very ill." He said.

His voice was soft. It had a light, lilting quality that sounded permanently amused at something.

"Neither do you." I smirked.

He surveyed me for a moment as I sat down beside him, before raising his eyebrows with a knowing smile and lying back with his eyes closed.

"What?" I asked, but he just shook his head and continued smiling serenely at the clouded sky.

I sat, somewhat self consciously, staring at him for a moment before giving into to gravity and stretching out on the wet grass.

We lay in silent company for a half an hour; I was lost in a complex choreography and I guess he was in his own, strange world when suddenly he spoke, his singsong voice melting into the shouts from the field.

"Do you hear them?" He asked.

"Hear what?"

"The trees." He rolled over to face me, grin hidden in the long grass. "They're singing."

I rolled my eyes. "You're so weird."

He laughed, turning his face to the sky again. "It's good to be strange. Normalness leads to sadness."

The glint in his eye caught the sun. I scowled at his shoulder. Was he making fun of me? Maybe he was being serious, in his eccentric, meandering way. He rolled over and poked me in the ribs and I tried to muffle a squeal.

And then again, maybe not.

Without waiting for a response he pulled himself up off the damp grass and padded barefoot back towards the college, muddy trainers dangling from one hand.

I remained as he left me, examining the smooth oval of flattened grass at my side.

* * *

x

x

* * *

**_oh look it's a really long chaptered fic I PROMISE NOT TO LOSE THIS ONE it would mean the world to me if you could review and it only takes a second - i will literally shower you with love ~_**


	2. Chapter 2

Dance is long over. I just have to focus on staying alive until next Wednesday.

A freezing globule of water slipped down the back of my neck. I swore loudly, jerking away from the drainpipe and falling straight into Phil Lester, his hair sparkling with a fine mist of drizzle.

"Do you have to swear at every opportunity?" He scolded.

I blinked in surprise. "Where did you come from?"

He motioned vaguely with one hand. "You're going to be late for lesson. Why are you hanging around here anyway? Leila Roberts is in dance class."

I blushed in horror. "I wasn't waiting for her. Why are you here anyway? You don't smoke. And you never skip class."

"Neither do you." He raised an eyebrow.

I turned my head away, thrusting my hands in my pockets and glaring at the wall. "Why do you care anyway? I'm just chilling in the rain. It's nice. Go away. I don't even know your name." Sure.

He laughed, shaking his head slowly at my scowl. "Can't two strangers stop for a chat in the rain? This is England after all." He ran a hand through is wet hair, surveying me. "If I forgot to tell you then that was very rude of me. I'm Phil. I take media, film production, literature and art.

"And you're Dan Howell. You're new. You hang around with Gabes, Jake Mansford and Knuckles Ned. You tag. You're not one of them, but you are young and lost in a world that's so different from the one you left that you see no choice but to follow them; as branching out in search of a truly new life here would require guts, creativity and acceptance. Which you don't have. Goodbye, Dan Howell. Maybe you'll shake off the prison of social constraint forced upon you by state highschool once you've been here a bit longer. Maybe not. But I have a class to go to. Enjoy your rain."

I stood silently where he left me; gaping. As the rain seeped through my hair and into the fabric of my clothes I mouthed weak insults and comebacks, trying to ignore his words. It only hurt because I knew I wasn't like that, not really. I just clung to people that so that they wouldn't beat me up. That kid was weird anyway. With one last disparaging glance at the dance studio, I sprinted over the wet tarmac towards my classroom.

* * *

X

* * *

I pulled my hood over my head, once more round the back of the sports hall. I don't think it stopped raining all day. I was waiting on my own again, shuffling around to try and stamp out the cold whilst still trying to look casual and confident. Like Phil said, it's a prison. Ha.

Knuckles came first with Gabes loyally at his side. Stomping through the mud with what was probably supposed to be a swagger he resembled a large gorilla; ridiculously thick arms swinging pendulums at his side. His nose was so misshapen from breakages and punches that it had concaved in on itself with fear and he sported a long, brutal looking scar down his left cheek that he held with pride. Gabes was slightly taller and better proportioned; going for the rugged look with blonde stubble, shoulder length greasy hair and silver piercings. Knuckles threw a punch at my shoulder by way of a greeting and I tried not to wince. Gabes pulled out a packet of Marlboro and lit up.

I took the offered cigarette with what I hoped was a casual 'cheers', trying to calm the beating of my heart as I shoved it in my mouth and reached for the lighter. I fumbled with the spark, taking two attempts to get it lit and turning my head with a jerk to hide my stinging eyes, furiously choking back a cough. Cautiously I blew out, turning back to face the others in triumph as a thin plume of smoke rose straight – proof that I'd inhaled properly this time rather than the first few humiliating attempts and hacking coughs.

If Gabes noticed my small victory, he didn't show it.

"Are we going out tonight or what?" He grunted, kicking a coke can into the tarmac with his foot.

Knuckles nodded, draining the first cigarette and lighting another. "Jake's got a free house and I'm not leaving till I get laid at least twice."

I tried not to sound too excited. "What time?"

Knuckles shrugged. "Just turn up. Bring booze. Sorted."

Gabes nodded in agreement. "Where is Jake anyway?"

Knuckles shrugged again, stamping out his third cigarette and striding off through the playing fields, Gabes and I running to catch up.

I tried to smother a grin as images of Leila Roberts in a party dress danced through my mind.

* * *

Bradfield College was a private grammar school serving ages 11 to 18, set in the outskirts of Reading next to a small forest. I'd moved there two months ago after the kids at my state school discovered my dancing. I'd been doing okay; I kept my head down and had a few good friends. We liked the same video games and the same music, but as soon as the news broke they ran - and I didn't blame them, really. Guilty by association. It wasn't until I'd ended up in hospital with two broken ribs and the word 'ballerina' tattooed in permanent marker across my bloodied forehead that I persuaded my parents to move me. My grandma grudgingly agreed to help with the fees, and so I travelled twelve miles by bus each morning through the quiet country lanes of Berkshire. Around half the students boarded – some weekly and some for the whole term – which created a divide between the boarders and the day kids. But a free house is a free house, and it seemed like half the college was invited.

* * *

_**Sorry it's short, longer chapter up on sunday ~**_

_**-Bradfield college is a real place, quite near where Dan grew up - the Bradfield college in this story is in **_**no way based on the real one**_**, I've never been there and have no idea what it's like - i just used the name and location :)**_

_***another generic plea for reviews* *pretty please***_


	3. Chapter 3

Thick cigarette smoke filled the air with a choking haze; stinging my eyes and making my voice rasp. The floor, sticky with spilled drink, was vibrating under me with the heavy bass from the speakers. My beer had gone so warm and flat that each sip made me want to vomit, but I persevered: determined to find the confidence from somewhere to join Gabes and his swarm of adoring girls. Normally I would have stayed clear of his bounty and gone in search of my own; but Leila Roberts perched giggling on the edge of his lap sipping from a bottle of Malibu, her sheet of long blonde hair swept over one shoulder.

Suddenly, Knuckles was at my shoulder, his foul breath in my face and his eyes glazed and bloodshot.

"Who invited the freaks?" He growled.

I span round quickly to follow the direction of his point, shying away from his heavy arm. Phil Lester. Again. Huh. With two other boys I didn't recognise.

"They're all boarders, but they're our year. Of course they were going to come." A small girl at my side was scowling at Knuckles. "And they're actually all really nice, hilarious and intelligent."

Knuckles raised his eyebrows at me and I shrugged.

"I don't know any of them."

Knuckles glanced over my shoulder and smirked. "Well, they sure seem to know you."

I span round again. Phil was pulling the other two towards me with a smile. "Hey Dan. Enjoying your drink? I highly doubt it."

I stared defensively down at my stale beer, and then to Phil's hand. I laughed. "You're drinking Malibu."

"Oh my God, I hadn't noticed - thanks for pointing that out mate!" That infuriating, amused smile played across his face. "It's a hell of a lot nicer than the warm piss you're drinking."

"But it's a girl's drink." I laughed.

"And there was me thinking you might have grown up since this morning." Phil sighed, shaking his head. "I know you're intelligent Dan, I can see it deep, deep down. You just need to stop trying to fit in so much and maybe it will make an appearance."

I blinked, stung. "I have literally only just met you. Jesus Christ."

The tall, curly haired boy at his side laughed. "Don't mind him he's just had a few too many. Here, try some. If it's manly to drink your own piss then I will happily be a woman. This stuff is beautiful on a whole new level."

His green eyes glittered through the smoke and I warmed to his crooked smile immediately. Sceptically, I took a sip from the colourful bottle.

"Oh my God. That's so good! I thought a-..." I trailed off suddenly.

"I'm PJ by the way." He smiled encouragingly.

I grinned shyly. "Hi. I'm Dan. Is it bad that I thought all alcohol tasted like beer? It's a- er.. all I've ever had."

Phil gasped over dramatically. "How have you survived?!" He laughed, pulling me by the arm. "Come on. That big slab of dead meat abandoned you the moment you smiled at me, so you're coming with us."

I made to follow then stopped short, my gaze swinging back round to the girls in the corner. "Actually I think I'll just go and... Oh."

Gabes' hand was sneaking its way up Leila's thigh as she twisted her slender body round to smile at him, wrapping her arms around his wide shoulders.

"Hard luck mate." The third boy clapped me on the shoulder with an apologetic smile. "I'll get you a drink. I'm Chris by the way."

"Yeah." I muttered, my eyes still fixed on their tangled bodies.

"Aww Dan you can do better than her anyway, I don't think there's anyone in East dorm she hasn't opened those lovely florescent orange legs for." Phil poked his tongue out of the corner of his mouth and I was left speechless again.

"She's naturally tan." I mumbled half heartedly.

As I let them sweep me through the jostling, dancing crowd the music seemed to fade into the background. My head went numb, unable to process what I had seen. Gabes knew I liked her; I never shut up about her. He told me he'd be my wingman tonight for Christ's sake. And was what Phil said true? Was she really a slut? It didn't matter anyway. I'd been stupid to think I'd ever have a chance with her, Gabes was a million times better looking than I'd ever be.

* * *

As drink after drink slipped down my throat, thoughts of Leila Roberts blurred into the vague haze of my intoxicated head. Phil, Chris and PJ were some of the strangest, most fascinating people I'd ever met. I felt completely at ease in their presence despite the jostling, drunken teenagers that surrounded us.

"I'm shooting in 24fps which has its pros and cons. On one hand you've got the intensity of the faster sequences but then you've got render and edit times." Chris and PJ were animatedly discussing the short film projects they were working on for their media class, but the combination of alcohol and tech-talk made it hard to follow.

"It's just lots and lots of crossfades man. And then this zombie just comes up and chucks a toaster through the window and there's some crazy glass flying everywhere and-"

"Have you got any bread though? For the toaster like..." Phil slurred

"What? No why-"

"I'm hungry!"

"Let's make toast!" Chris piped in, grinning stupidly.

"No I don't have the toaster here with me-"

The Malibu had me doubled over in uncontrollable giggles and Chris and Phil dragged PJ into Jake's kitchen, grey tiles already splattered with vomit in places. We were just in time to see a pretty impressive explosion from one corner as two girls in hotpants tried to microwave an egg; but there was no sign of a toaster.

"Maybe there's a barbeque?" Chris suggested suddenly.

"Yeah!" beamed Phil, pulling the protesting PJ out the back door. I followed, tripping over an inanimate body in the darkness and landing face first in the wet mud. I pulled myself into crawling position, trying to follow the sounds of their shouts and laughter, but I was having a hard time staying up and crashed straight into a flowerbed.

Phil's singsong voice floated over the shrubbery towards me and I struck out blindly towards it. "Where's Dan?"

"I'm over here!" I called, only it came out more like "I ber erer!"

I could hear the slight squelch of Phil's footsteps in the mud and dull, metallic thuds somewhere in the distance. It sounded like Chris and PJ were trying to break into the garden shed.

"Don't step on me! I'm on the ground." I called out as Phil stumbled closer.

"Watchoo down there for?" He chuckled.

I felt his hand graze the top of my hair and I caught it in mine, still giggling. "You found me!"

He laughed, taking hold of my hand and pulling me to my feet. "Hey gorgeous." He murmured, his voice suddenly mock-seductive and hoarse.

I giggled again, entwining my hands in his hair. "My saviour!"

He laughed with me, playing along and scooping his arms around me waist to pull me close, so close that I could feel his warm breath on my lips. "You know... It is very _dark_ out here. I doubt anyone would notice if I just whisked you away with me into that bush over there _right_... now!"

I snorted as he tackled me to the ground. We tussled for a minute before I straddled him triumphantly. He seemed surprised by my strength because he shot me a scowl through the shadows.

My "Ha!" was short lived though as he twisted suddenly out from under me, rolling me over in the mud and pinning my hands behind my head with his face brushing against mine.

My eyebrows retreated so far up my forehead that they probably disappeared into my hairline as his lips grazed my cheek. A delicious shiver ran down my spine and my back arched against him. My vision was blurred and my head thick and fuzzy. As his lips came crashing down on mine it started spinning, and I wasn't so sure it was the drink anymore.

Our mouths were dry and sweet from the Malibu and I was resisting the urge to pull away and lick my lips. My hands hung awkwardly limp on his back as he released them and my whole body stiffened and, too my embarrassment, started shaking uncontrollably. I don't think he noticed though because his hands were moving through my hair and down my arms. Still joking, he trailed a long line of elaborate pecks down my arm and to my hand; and in one smooth motion he was pulling to my feet laughing. I stood in silence, trembling and swaying. My eyes had adjusted to the dark and I could see his silhouette and the sparkle of his eyes. It was pitch black, but I swear he had that same amused smirk playing across his lips.

"Shall we, my lady?" He asked; and it took me a minute to realise he was offering his arm.

I took a quick breath to steady myself and wiped my clammy hand on my jeans, glad of the dark, before slipping my arm through his and trying to laugh.

"Where did Chris and Peej go?" I asked, instantly regretting it. My voice was high and shaky. I coughed quickly to try and cover up.

Phil was drunker than I'd thought though and took that opportunity to walk headfirst into a tree – thankfully distracting from my pathetic titter. I pulled him up laughing, playing it up by staggering and leaning on him as we walked, proving that I too was completely wasted and what happened... _back there_... was just a drunken joke among friends. Which it was. Of course it was. Why was I over thinking it anyway? Phil probably did it all the time. It was a sign of close friendship, that's all. Ugh.

I was pulled out of my thoughts by the sound of singing drifting down on us - seemingly from the stars. The voice was low and husky, and had a soothing if somewhat ethereal quality to it. With a sudden gust of wind the moon emerged from behind black clouds; bathing the garden in brilliant silver light. We were standing just in front of a tin-roofed shed with peeling green paint and a noticeable dent in the door. PJ sat on the roof, his long legs dangling over the edge and swinging slightly as he sang, Chris curled up asleep on his lap.

"Oh I don't wanna live on the moooon." As I watched, PJ ran his long fingers through Chris' tousled hair, stroking his cheek and smiling gently. Huh. Maybe this was just an incredibly affectionate friendship group I'd stumbled into. Platonic lovers. I just hoped to God no one saw as Phil slipped his hand into mine and dragged me forwards with a grin.


	4. Chapter 4

"Port de bras and _rise_ to releve, grande plie endu devant - keep it **slow **I want to see you working through the demi-pointe - hold for two counts – Jamie I want that head on the working foot - now close for two _good_ Jamie.  
Tendu derriere - close - tendu a la seconde – work the inner thighs!"

Ballet is different. For ballet, you have to be immaculate. You're rarely able to dance long enough to really get into it before the music and the teacher yells. Technique and showmanship, no matter what cost. Modern is a kind of rebellion to ballet. It's like someone said 'well that's cool, but this actually looks better.' And the ballet people just said 'that's not how to dance. Your left foot is out of second and your arm's too low for fourth.' So modern was born, built on passion and impulse. I'm not sure which I like more. Ballet requires discipline, and it's the knowledge that you can always do something better that appeals so much and keeps you working right into the night. And sometimes I do, when the curtains are closed and no one's around. I dance until my feet are numb and my whole body is aching.

* * *

X

* * *

I wasn't in any of the same classes as Phil, but I had drama with Chris three times a week in a dilapidated theatre building next to the sports hall.

"Och aye!"

"Ock I!"

"No, the 'aye' needs more of a sway – you need to hear the 'A' just a little bit it's not just 'I'"

"Okay okay och a-i?"

"Close enough.." Chris grinned.

His accents had always been his forte, along with crazy, side splitting characterization. Previously I'd watched from across the room, but now I was at his side – getting the full force of his humour. I was more of a serious, 'truthful' actor I guess; I had my Stanislavsky volumes but I'd never have Chris's flair.

"So uh, did you have a hangover yesterday?" I'd been trying to bring up the party all morning, but Chris had a film project coming up and didn't seem too interested.

"Nah not really. I'm still young!" He laughed. "Okay for the opening sequence I really need you to do that old man thing when the zombies first arrive? And it's a good thing we're supposed to be doing a monologue each because I want you to learn Shakespeare."

"What?! Why do you need Shakespeare for a zombie movie?"

"Don't worry. It's a really good soliloquy, the Macbeth one? You probably know it already so you'll get a good mark for it and you'll be helping me out!" Chris had his head buried in the costume rack, in between the revolutionaries' jackets from last year's 'Les Miserables' and a polka dot pantomime skirt.

I watched him for a minute before trying again.

"Phil was... er pretty drunk on Saturday, too. Um..." I trailed off lamely.

"Was he? I don't really remember." Chris's voice was muffled by pantaloons and I couldn't see his expression.

"Yeah he.. er... was really funny." I cursed myself quietly. "And I didn't know PJ could sing."

"Well seeing as you had only just met him I wouldn't expect you to." Chris replied sarcastically, emerging triumphant with half a rubber duck and a pistol. "Ha!"

I blinked. "I'm not even gonna ask."

* * *

X

* * *

We wandered out into the sunshine after class, Chris drilling me on my Macbeth scene.

"'Is this a dagger which I see before me; the handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee!' That's literally all I know though, and you still haven't explained why you want it in your film thing." My Scottish accent collapsed pitifully after the first sentence.

"Then it goes: 'I have thee not, but I still see thee.' And all will become clear when we start shooting, never fear. It's going to be really dramatic so I might have to deepen your voice when I edit it..." Chris smirked, jumping out of my reach as I threw a punch at his stomach.

"Hey! My voice is very manly thank you very much. And I'll-oh." I'd just spotted Gabes and Jake, lumbering towards me with identical 'sup' nods. "I'll er... see you around." In one swift movement I veered away from Chris onto the grass, trying to make it seem like I hadn't been walking with him and firmly pushing away the twinge of guilt that threatened my gut.

"Hey guys." I said, starting to smile in greeting then remembering my company and adopting what I hoped was a surely, threatening expression instead. Come to think of it, my voice did actually sound pretty high pitched and feeble. I frowned.

"Yo." Gabes grunted. His voice was manly.

"Who's your boyfriend?" Jake smirked.

"What?!" I panicked – thinking of the moonlight at the party - then realised he meant Chris. "Oh. He's in my drama group - I mean the teacher put us in groups. We were just talking about the play."

"Oh yeah," Gabes grunted disapprovingly "I forgot you did drama."

I winced. "There's only four boys in the class man, I reckon I'm onto something. And sometimes you have to kiss the girls." I tried to copy Jake's swagger, but ended up tripping up over my own feet.

Gabes snorted. "I can kiss all the girls I want, thanks. I don't have to _pretend_ to be a babe magnet."

I laughed along with them, turning my face briefly to the clouds and taking a deep breath. It was going to be a long lunch break.

* * *

X

* * *

I stood outside room 11, shivering in my soaked t-shirt and creating a puddle of water in the darkened hall. I was 99% sure that this was their room, so why was I so nervous about knocking on the door? It's such a stupid thing. Those awkward butterflies. I closed my eyes briefly. They're my friends. It's gone 11, they won't have any one over now. This is definitely their room. I brought my fist up quickly to rap quickly on the door before I could change my mind, holding my breath.

"Come in!" PJ answered, his gentle voice muffled by the door; and I let out the breath I'd been holding.

I put my hand on the handle cautiously, not sure what to expect – I'd never been in one of the dorm rooms before.

The first thing I saw was Chris, in just his boxers, laying face down on a bed and moaning obscenities in a Russian accent. I blinked. It took me a second to take in the rest of the room. It was small, barely enough room for the three single beds and four desks. The white walls were covered in posters and pictures and the tack holes and scraps of blue tack from the previous inhabitants. Phil and PJ were huddled round a laptop completely ignoring Chris, an open box of cereal in front of them. Phil raised his head in greeting and I watched his jaw drop as he took in my appearance.

"_Shit _Dan. What happened? Why are you even in college, you should be at home – I thought it was Bryony! Oh my god, are you okay? I'll get a towel."

Chris rolled over on the bed and eyed me sympathetically. "Was it the fish pond? I bet it was the fish pond. That one's a classic." He rolled back over and switched to quoting Macbeth, this time Scottish, his voice muffled by the duvet. "It is the bloody business which informs, thus to mine eyes."

PJ was already at my side, closing the door and helping me out of my shirt while Phil wrapped a large, fluffy towel around my shoulders. "Where are your trousers and shoes and things?" PJ asked, concerned. "And how the hell did you end up in the fish pond?"

They sat me down on the bed, Chris pausing his ramblings only to shuffle over to one side.

"It was Knuckles." I murmured with a sigh. "He doesn't like me hanging around with you guys, I guess. I was supposed to be staying over Jake's for Call of Duty. Only we stayed at college for ages. And then knuckles decided I had to 'prove I'm not a pussy'. Only he was a little more forceful than that." I shuddered at the memory. "So I jumped in. I took my jeans off because they were new; only they weren't there when I got out. And neither was Knuckles. _Shit_."

"Look - don't worry about the jeans you can borrow some of mine. And a shirt too as this one's covered in some slimy green stuff... anyway it doesn't matter. What matters is those three are some of the biggest dicks I've ever met." PJ shook his head angrily. "You can stay here tonight and have a shower; and... screw those bastards." PJ put his arm around my shoulders and all of a sudden I was fighting back tears.

"Thanks," I murmured. "I only met you on Saturday and here I am snivelling on your doorstep." I laughed, somewhat pathetically.

"Don't worry about it!" PJ smiled, and there was something about his throaty chuckle that put me at ease.

Phil hadn't spoken since I'd walked in the door, instead sat rubbing my back soothingly with an anxious expression, nibbling his lower lip. "Look you can sleep in my bed." His voice was soft and sympathetic, he reminded me of my mum when I'd come home from school covered in bruises. "I'll kip on the floor, okay? Those bastards won't even touch you."

"I can't take your bed!" I gasped. "I'll sleep on the floor, it's fine - honestly!"

"No way." Phil shook his head emphatically. "You've probably got pneumonia or something..."

"Yeah that's a good point actually," PJ interrupted. "You should really go have that shower and warm up. And you've er... got some pond weed in your hair."

All at once I started laughing at my pitiful situation. I probably looked hilarious. "You guys are the best." I smiled weakly. "I mean it. Even you, Chris."

Chris raised two hands in the rock and roll symbol by way of acknowledgement, his face still firmly in the duvet.

* * *

X

* * *

PJ's soft snores filled the darkened room. I felt warmer and more absolutely comfortable than I had in years, but there was still something missing.

"Phil..?" I whispered.

"Yeah?" Came the hoarse reply.

"Are you awake?"

"No. I like to hold conversations in my sleep. Sometimes I even write poetry about stupid people called Dan."

I tried to smother a giggle. "I feel really awful about taking your bed. Isn't the floor really hard and uncomfortable?"

"I guess a little, but I am prepared to suffer for my friends." He sighed melodramatically. "Unless you want me to come up there with you and stop you having nightmares about deep sea dwelling goldfish and murderous pondweed?"

I buried my face in my pillow and snorted. "Attack of the tadpoles."

He giggled along with me.

I took a deep breath. "But yeah. That would be nice. I mean, if you want to." I squeezed my eyes shut and waited.

"Yeah okay. I'll creep in beside you so as not to wake the dreamers."

I could hear the rustle of blankets and then quiet footsteps as he shuffled towards me through the darkness. Quickly, I moved over to make room and lifted the blankets; glad he couldn't see my grin in the darkness. I felt the dip of the mattress before I felt him, and then he was beside me – our warm skin pressed together in the confinement of the single bed. With a little shuffling we managed to pull the blankets over ourselves and get comfortable, facing each other so close that I could feel his hair tickling my face. We held our breath for a moment, listening to PJ's snores.

"We didn't wake them." Phil whispered, his sweet toothpaste-breath fluttering my lashes.

Suddenly, there was a noise from the bed by the door. "Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth." Chris's whisper why dry and sarcastic, and I could feel Phil's guilty grin from across the pillow.

* * *

Under the duvet, his hand found mine and our fingers entwined; until our snores joined PJ's and Chris's in quiet, peaceful harmony.

* * *

X

X

* * *

**_Please review, takes a second - means alot :3 i dunno if i should keep going with this story like i have loads of plot planned but i dunno if you'd be interested and ugh_**


	5. Chapter 5

I woke slowly and comfortably from dreams of Leila Roberts as the sun streamed in through the window. Hair tickled my nose and I opened my eyes to a sea of ebony. Oh right yeah. Phil. Not Leila. Okay. Shit. The bed was so small we were practically spooning and I jerked backwards, hitting the wall with my arse and biting my tongue so as not to wake him. I glanced down under the covers. Shitshitshit. This was not something I wanted him to see; of course he'd jump to the wrong conclusions. I mean I _was_ sharing a bed with.

It was still early, I reasoned. If I jumped in the shower now I could be out before anyone woke up. Carefully, I climbed over the soft hump of Phil's sleeping body and shut the bathroom door, turning the shower down as cold as it would go. Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the sheet of ice: focusing very carefully on the image of Coach Richards in lacy pink French lingerie.

* * *

X

* * *

"How much of that pond did you get in your hair?!" Phil laughed as I came out of the shower with a towel around my waist.

He was sitting cross legged on the bed reading a book, the duvet pulled up around his shoulders.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" I smiled, trying to ignore the adorable way in which he was clinging on to his big toe with his fingers.

"Yeah, but I usually wake up early anyway. Unlike Chris, he won't get out of bed until five minutes before his lesson – and that's only if we tip him out." Phil poked his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, turning to grin fondly at the bed by the door.

"Sometimes we have to get the shower out and spray him before he moves." PJ murmured with a yawn. His morning voice was deep and croaky, and he stretched lethargically out on the bed, arching his back against the headboard.

"Ahh sorry for waking you!" Phil's eyebrows creased and he grinned guiltily at me.

"Nah s'cool," PJ yawned again. "I woke up earlier anyway. Saw you two all cuddled up." He flashed us a crooked grin.

I smiled into the floor, remembering the warmth of his arms. As I looked up I caught Phil's eye again and held my breath – there was a wicked glint in one corner.

"Can Dan borrow one some clothes? He's very distracting in that little towel and I need to get some work done this morning."

PJ only raised his eyebrows for a split second before rolling over to his drawers. "Yeah sure man."

I on the other hand turned a fetching shade of crimson and stared, eyes bulging. Platonic friend group. Huh.

* * *

PJ's clothes smelled like soap and forests, but they fitted me almost perfectly – even the impossibly tight jeans.

"What time's your first class?" PJ asked through another yawn, pulling on a black sock which was more hole than sock.

"It's not till 1:30," I replied as I tried to pull my hair straight with my hands, "Double Lit and then I'm done for the day."

"Same actually, do you think we should get started on the shoot? At least start storyboarding the scenes you're in while you're here." PJ paused with a shirt halfway over his head, staring eagerly at the mass of camera equipment in one corner of the small room. "We'll have to get Chris up first though..."

His face fell slightly as he turned to Chris: asleep with his head under the pillow, one leg hanging so far off the bed it touched the floor and the other curled underneath him so that he resembled a headless duvet snail.

"Oh dear." Phil said with a little giggle.

Cautiously, I approached the bed. PJ joined me and surveyed the task with his arms folded and his eyes narrowed.

"It's a bad one. I reckon we should go straight for the shower." PJ adopted a gruff voice as if about to perform heart surgery and cracked his knuckles dramatically in front of him, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Aw no that's mean!" Phil pouted. "We should at least _try_ to wake him first."

"But that's no fun." PJ sighed. "Alright fine. Dan, would you like to do the honours?"

Tentatively, I lifted the pillow from one corner. Chris's face was squished into the mattress, his mouth slightly open, his eyes firmly shut.

I looked up desperately to PJ for help. I'd only met him Saturday night; I didn't think Chris would take too kindly to me poking him awake. "Er... hey, Chris? Wake up man." I muttered.

PJ and Phil both burst out laughing, leaving me standing awkwardly by the bed looking at my feet.

"Nice try Dan." Phil chuckled, patting my shoulder. "We'll take it from here."

With a nod at PJ, Phil stepped forwards: each of them grabbing one end of the mattress.

"On three: One, two, three **HEAVE** and UP YOU GET."

In one smooth, well practiced motion they upturned the mattress – toppling its contents into a heap on the floor with a thud.

I climbed over the bed slats, laughing, to get a good look at the bundle on the floor. For a moment it was completely still; and then a low groan welled slowly and pitifully from the mound. Gingerly, PJ nudged aside the duvet with his foot.

Chris hissed emphatically at the light and rolled over into a ball; then kept rolling until he was under the bed and out of our reach. PJ shook his head and laughed. "Morning to you too. We're gonna start shooting today so you should probably get dressed, but hey, it's up to you."

Chris froze for a moment as though considering mutiny, but sighed theatrically to let us know where he stood on the matter before grudgingly rolling back out to lay on his back, staring bleary eyed up at us. PJ offered him a hand and pulled him to his feet. He sighed again. "I don't know why people say 'good morning'." He grumbled. "There's _nothing_ good about mornings." With that, he slumped into the bathroom – his gangly arms hanging limply at his side.

* * *

X

* * *

"Right - so the basic structure of the Best-Zombie-Movie-Ever: dramatic Shakespeare reading while walking slow mo through a sea of effects and dead things and explosions, dramatic camera zoom. Then when it gets up to Dan's face he's gonna be surrounded by zombies and he'll just pull two guns out, pull the trigger and boom – roll title sequence." Phil and PJ sat at the desk, running through the first draught of the storyboard as Chris talked from the bed. "Then we have some psychedelic shots, lots of focus and unfocussing and just a sorta montage of whatever we can get, some running, heavy breathing, that sort of thing. Then cut to the forest – blair witch-esque. PJ's doing that one right? Right cool. Easier to film too."

"Oh God. Blair Witch scared me shitless." I piped up from the floor, where I was sitting cross legged – a little out of the action as I didn't take media or film.

"Don't worry; you can hold my hand when it gets to that bit." Phil grinned at me from the swivel chair.

I jerked my head away so quickly I clicked my neck, glaring at the floor, a red flush rising rapidly in my cheeks. Jesus Christ. I didn't understand that kid. That wasn't platonic, that was flirty. I wasn't an expert - hell, I don't think I've ever been flirted with properly in my life. But that WASN'T platonic. And I'd just shared a bed with him. Shit. I tried to ignore it; Chris and PJ didn't even bat an eyelid, so maybe it was just him - messing around. Maybe I was the one overreacting. Harmless banter among friends.

Phil was quickly becoming my rock in the mortal world, away from the dance studio. I didn't want to complicate it with worrying that he was going to... _come on to me _all of a sudden.

Lost in my thoughts, I'd managed to miss a good chunk of the run through.

"And I'm still not sure about the ending. Do you make it out alive? Or shall we leave them guessing – maybe some gunshots and screams..." Chris trailed off, staring out the window thoughtfully.

"I reckon we should kill Bryony off and leave PJ." Phil grinned. "She'd get a kick out of a dramatic death, and Adam's got a whole bunch of fake blood ordered – we might as well make the most of it. Let's have something really gory – you know how good she is with makeup and arty things."

Chris nodded in agreement, hugging his knees to his chest. "For the deserted town scenes we're going to have to travel – filming in the college would just look so tacky. I want to blow everyone's _mind_."

PJ made a few notes in the thick folder, ready to fill with production plans. "Train tickets... Anyone got any ideas? Where would be deserted on a weekend?"

We sat in silence for a few minutes, considering.

"Well we can worry about that later." Chris frowned. "We won't have anything at all unless we figure out what we're doing about the bloody dance bit."

My ears pricked up at once. Dance? Obviously I'd missed that bit.

"Yeah. Shit." PJ's face creased into grim determination. "We're going to have to find someone. I'm not giving up on this, even if we have to pay them or something."

"Wait – what dance scene? Sorry, I zoned out." I tried to keep my tone casual, but I wasn't doing such a good job of it judging by their surprised expressions as they all turned to face me.

"We have to include all three of the art forms, music, drama and dance. It's supposed to show diversity." Phil eyed me curiously. "And obviously we're struggling to fit dance in to a zombie movie."

"Oh. Cool." I murmured lamely, staring intently at the carpet and trying to hide the turmoil of conflicting emotions in my gut. I'd only just met these people, but already I felt closer to them than anyone I'd ever known. And Phil was right. I was nearly an adult; it was time to start being myself – no matter what the consequences. I just didn't know if I was ready for such a big leap just yet.

After a moments silence they resumed their breakdown, PJ giving the folder to Phil and getting up to pace the small room as he talked. It wasn't until PJ had sat down on the bed opposite Chris to discuss with Phil that I made up my mind.

"I'll do it." I announced, cutting off whatever Phil was saying mid sentence.

"Do what?" Chris asked, confused.

"The dance bit." I squeezed my eyes shut, carrying on in one breath so I couldn't register their reactions. "On one condition: you have to edit it so you can't recognise me. At all. Silhouettes or something I don't care, but I've had enough trips to the bottom of the fish pond for this year." I carefully avoided their eyes, but I couldn't help spotting Phil's expression in the reflection of the window. A strange little smile played at the corner of his mouth, as though he'd somehow known all along. I tried to ignore it – focussing instead on the stunned silence coming from Chris and PJ on my left.

"You... you dance?" PJ asked, tentatively.

I nodded, still carefully tracing the chipped white paint on the walls with my eyes. "Since I was four. It's... it means a lot to me." And the understatement of the year award goes to...

PJ nodded slowly. "Okay. Yeah. I like the silhouette idea. Could you choreograph the routine and stuff?"

"Yeah, no problem." Taking a deep breath, I turned to face them – somewhat defiantly.

PJ was eyeing me thoughtfully, as though taking me in properly for the first time. "I did wonder where you got those abs from." He laughed, and I relaxed. He didn't even ask the usual question: 'What, you do ballet in like tights and stuff?'

Chris was already back in his laptop and I couldn't stop a huge smile spreading across my face. Acceptance. Phil was right, again. Huh.

Talking of Phil, he hadn't taken his eyes of me the whole time – that strange grin. And suddenly it hit me, what it reminded me of: my Mum, telling my grandma about the competition I'd won in year six, barely containing her pride.


	6. Chapter 6

Phil's face popped up on my phone screen and I tried to reach it without getting up – overbalancing and toppling in a tangle of bed sheets onto the carpet. Cursing and blinking at the bright screen, I pressed answer.

" 'Lo?"

"Hey, Dan. Are you up?"

"I am now." I grunted.

I could hear his giggle; even distorted and tinny from the phone it still made me smile.

"Sorry. Actually no I'm not: it's a lovely day – don't waste it!"

I rolled my eyes but chose not to comment.

"I just wanted to know if you were doing anything today - we're going with Adam and Bryony to look at filming locations in town and I thought you might wanna come along?"

I nodded happily then remembered he couldn't see me. "Yeah, sure. What time and where and stuff?"

"We'll meet you at the train station in half an hour. Byeee!"

"Wha-? I'm not even dressed yet wait!" But he'd already hung up on me.

Cursing, I flung open my wardrobe – looking for a clean pair of jeans. No luck. I chastised myself silently, turning instead to the floor – kicking bundles of clothes aside with my foot.

I managed to pull on a jacket as I ran down the stairs, glaring at the grey jeans I'd opted for. I never wear anything other than black – but times were desperate. Shovelling cereal into my mouth I sped out the door and into the street.

* * *

X

* * *

"Cheese!"

We pulled out our awkward photo smiles, Chris somehow managing to weasel his way out of the photo and behind the camera.

PJ pulled at the Polaroid and shook it to develop it before scribbling a date and time on the white boarder with a pencinl and shoving it into the folder. I was trying to make polite conversation with Adam, but casual confidence had never been a strong point of mine.

"So uh... what subjects do you take?"

Thankfully, Bryony saved me with a grin – pulling him away to look at the posters up all over the station advertising the new Xbox.

* * *

We wandered aimlessly around town for half an hour, not paying much attention to scenery - instead trading banter and enjoying the rare burst of sunshine. Chris photographed a couple of residential streets that looked promising, but there was nothing particularly apocalyptic in suburban Reading. Bryony, Adam and Phil were deep in discussion about some anime show they all watched so I hung back to join Chris and Phil, trying not to look too awkward.

"A good location means everything though. If we don't get the shots perfect, we can spend days editing and then realise we have to reshoot them – it would be a fucking nightmare. I'm just not happy with anything we've seen so far."

Chris nodded glumly. "It just all looks so... thriving. We need chaos, rubble, despair... Not little kids playing on scooters."

I walked along silently, in that horrific just-in-front-because-there's-no-room-on-the-pavem ent spot. I was racking my brain, desperate to win their friendship, when I had an idea.

"How about a building site? I mean a big one. There'll be no one working on a Sunday, and there'll be lots of rubble and stuff – there's the site at the end of James Street? They're building a whole estate, I think."

PJ beamed at me like I'd just cured cancer or something.

"Perfect! Why didn't I think of that? HEY guys!" He called ahead, "You're going the wrong way!"

* * *

Quickly, we backtracked through town. I was still a little smug over my (admittedly pretty minor) breakthrough, giving me confidence to talk to PJ some more.

"So, how long have you known Chris and Phil?" I asked.

"Phil, about three years, but Chris I've known since forever. We went to the same nursery but I didn't see him for like five years when we moved to 'big school.' Then one day I was filming myself in the living room – just a sonnet thing I was doing for English – and Chris bloody Kendall stuck his head through the window and joined in with the most horrific Jamaican accent I'd ever heard." He smirked, flashing a glance at Chris who returned it with a wink.

"We've been together ever since." He shrugged.

I blinked.

"What?"

"Huh?" PJ hadn't heard me, or maybe he was pretending. Somewhat deliberately, I thought, he grabbed Chris's hand and swung it between them as they walked – a serene grin across his face.

Chris raised his eyebrows, but made no attempt to move away – instead leaning into the contact.

"Oh I er didn't realise that you were... I-" I blinked furiously, trying to get my head round it. Jesus _Christ_. Platonic/friendship/group. Ha. Apparently not. Not at all actually. _Shit_. I was probably wrong about Phil too - fucking hell. I'd definitely been leading him on, I made him sleep with me for Christ's sake, he was probably – no don't think about it. Oh God.

"What, is there a problem?" PJ didn't even raise his voice, but there was something in his tone that made me blush furiously and stutter as I tried word vomit my way out of anything that might be offensive.

"I ahh no not at all I - no that wasn't what I meant I was just ah surprised I no I don't mean I just didn't realise I..."

Chris shook his head reproachfully at PJ, punching him gently in the arm.

"Don't worry about it Dan, you wouldn't have known – we were playing it down because we weren't sure how you would react, seeing as you've only just met us. PJ's just testing you." He grinned reassuringly at me and I smiled weakly in return.

Wow. That was... news.

I stayed pretty silent for the rest of the walk, trying to take it all in. I only just stopped myself from asking if Phil was gay too, worried I might offend them somehow. And that would make it look like I _liked_ him. Which I didn't.

Did I?

* * *

X

* * *

Soon, the building site was looming in front of us. It was bigger than I remembered, and I couldn't help grinning: it was perfect. The half-built houses looked like they'd been hit by a bomb, and there was plenty of rubble around for 'special effects'.

PJ pulled his camera out again and Chris climbed inelegantly over the fence to get a good look, staying well clear of the whistling builders in their hi-vi jackets – they were all a lot larger than Chris and covered in tattoos; somehow they didn't look like they'd take too kindly to his impromptu visit.

PJ finished sticking the last picture in the folder and checked his watch. "Shit. We're running out of time. We have to film next weekend, which means we really need to find the other two locations..."

"Well Adam and I aren't really involved in the whole camera stuff, I doubt we'd be much help so why don't we head back into town and pick up everything we'll need for makeup and costumes and stuff?" Bryony asked, slipping her hand into Adam's. Well, that was new. But not totally unexpected. If the others noticed, they tactfully chose to ignore it.

"Yeah we should probably split up – we'll get more done." Phil agreed. "I can take Dan to the forest, and you two can get another train and find some nice landscapes and stuff?"

Huh. Well I guess I didn't get a say in the matter. I tried to ignore how excited I was all of a sudden about the prospect of spending an afternoon with him. In no time at all, I was sat on a train back up to college – once more alone with Phil Lester.

"Don't worry." He grinned across the little plastic table. "There's no witch in these woods, I promise."

* * *

X

* * *

The forest was dark, patches of dappled sunlight filtering down through the leafy canopy. We followed a mud path that wound down into the valley. Vines of ivy wound their way around the trees, tangling across the path and reaching upwards towards the sky. Where the sunlight hit the floor, patches of bluebells sprung up – shivering in the breeze.

"It's too pretty for a horror movie." I frowned, watching a blackbird flit through the foliage.

"You underestimate the power of video editing!" Phil grinned. "A couple of filters and some subtle blurring and we could turn this into a midnight graveyard. We do need to find a thicker patch though, away from the path."

I nodded, veering out into the undergrowth but Phil pulled me back. "Wait. We've got time. I want to show you the river, I can't believe you've been here three months and never once gone near the woods."

I rolled my eyes, following him over a fallen tree and snatching my jacket away from the brambles I unwillingly toppled into.

"I should have gone with Chris and Peej." I grumbled, inspecting the tear.

"You wouldn't want to be third wheeling with them, trust me." He cringed. "You want to know why I spend so much time in here?"

I raised my eyebrows.

"I have to go out every evening for an hour so they can have sex." He grinned, poking his tongue out of the corner of his mouth.

I gasped in horror. "Seriously?! Jesus Christ. Can they not just, be a bit subtle about it... Christ."

"We tried that at the beginning," he nodded in agreement, "Only they didn't know when I'd be back and I kept walking in on them and - I mean - we're close, but it was pretty awkward. They'd basically given up their sex life to let me move in, and I really appreciated it. So one day I just sat them down and sorted it out." He shrugged his shoulders. "Sometimes I'll just stick my headphones in and let them get on with it, I mean that's the sort of thing you have to deal with when sharing a room."

I tried to picture it and then immediately stopped trying to picture it.

"Wow. Okay. Can I ask what time they... you go out each evening? So I know not to call or anything-ugh."

Phil snickered at me. "It varies I'm afraid. Sometimes I'll just go out whenever I feel like a walk and they'll be mysteriously changed into their pyjamas when I get back. Other times they'll just start making out and I'll hot tail it out the window." He winked at me.

I wasn't sure how serious he was being, but I didn't want to ask. I wasn't all that experienced in the field of sex. Fuck, I'd only ever kissed a couple of girls before. Truth be told, I was a little jealous. I mean... they had sex - _every day_?

"Look!" Phil said suddenly.

The path had been sloping downwards but now it dropped steeply, twisting and winding around the tall pines. Through the needles, I could see a glint of blue. Now that the crunch of our trainers on the dry leaves had stopped I could hear the water too, rushing over the rocks.

"Come on!" Phil grinned, grabbing my hand and pulling me down.

_He was holding my hand. He was probably gay. _

_And then I an epiphany: I didn't give a fuck._

* * *

Only, he didn't stop when we reached the water. And my downward momentum coupled with the force of his hand pulled me straight in after him, clothes and all.

"Shit!" I screamed. "It's freezing – my clothes – what are you doing?!"

Phil was laughing and still moving forwards, leaning into a breathless front crawl and dropping my hand.

"Come on!" He panted. "You need to stay warm!"

"I can't fucking move in my clothes!" I hissed. "Shit, my shoe's come off!"

In a second, Phil had duck-dived under the water and emerged spluttering and triumphant, clutching my shoe.

"It didn't go far, silly. And I'm serious, you either need to get swimming or get out - you'll freeze otherwise." With that, Phil was splashing in a messy backstroke towards the opposite bank.

I wavered for a moment, the bank looked so warm and dry and tantalizing... but then, there was a part of me guiltily pushing me forwards. I wanted to impress Phil.

Making a quick decision, I waded back towards the bank and scrambled over the rocks. I shed my shoes and my heavy jacket then turned to the water again, scanning the trees.

Shivering, I shinnied up a drooping willow whose branches hung out far across the water. Hidden by the veil of whispery green I watched Phil. He'd reached the other bank and was treading water, squinting at my jacket and looking adorably confused.

With a grin, I launched myself off the branch – landing with a satisfying splash almost on top of Phil.

I surfaced, gasping. "God, it's cold." I was so close to Phil, I could see the water clinging to his eyelashes and dripping down his cheeks.

"Feels good though, right?" He grinned. "Or can't you handle it?"

I splashed him. He splashed me back. I tried to dunk him, but he was faster than I'd expected and slipped away easily. He let me almost catch him, then sank below the surface, came up behind me and pushed my head under the water. He swam away giggling, floating on his back again and staring at the sky. I could see the blue reflected in his already cerulean eyes.

He grabbed a low branch and flipped over, bobbing, to wait for me. I put my hand next to his and we hung together, watching the ripples. When we didn't move the river lay smooth, the water dark and clouded.

"Can you drink it?" I asked.

"No. You'd die."

"Seriously?!" I gasped. I'd swallowed half the river when I jumped in.

He grinned. "No, it's grade B. Which is pretty clean. About three miles further up it spreads out into creeks and goes through the marshes. You wouldn't want to swim there."

"Why not?" I asked.

"It's tidal by then, so you never know what the depth is. There's loads of sinking mud too."

"I like how you know things." I said without thinking. Phil looked right at me.

"You do?"

"I like a lot things about you, actually." It sounded like such a line that I cringed.

He rolled his eyes, but smiled. "Your lips are blue."

He reached across and touched my mouth with his finger as if he could brush the cold away. And it was kinda embarrassing the way my body responded. My heart racing, my skin trembling. I wanted to kiss his finger.

"You don't exactly look warm yourself." I whispered.

"Maybe we should get out then."

But neither of us moved.

He leaned towards me. His eyes were sparkling blue flecked with flashes of white. He kissed me gently, his hand touching my cheek.

Too soon, he pulled back. "I really think we should get out. You're shivering like mad."

I buried my nose and mouth into the curve of his neck and kissed him once, to say goodbye. We clambered out together and raced up the river bank, shivering violently now. We hopped about, teeth chattering, trying to rub ourselves dry.

"Run." He said, "Come on, we need to get warm."

He grabbed my hand and pulled me along the grass. At the trees I wheeled him round and made him skip back. We took turns giving each other instructions. Up and down the riverbank - jumping one way, hopping back, aeroplane impressions (wings and engine sounds included) before sinking ragged and laughing onto the grass in a small patch of sunlight.

"That," I gasped, "has only just _begun_ to warm me up. I swear I've never been so cold in my life"

"You should try the sea next." Phil laughed. "And I don't mean pretty sandy beaches, I mean the wild sea. There's this place I go sometimes, a few miles away by the bay. It's got amazing waves, really ferocious. I'll take you one day, if you like."

"Promise?"

"Course."

And we both smiled, and my hand reached for his and clasped it tight.

* * *

X

X

* * *

**_The chapter's are getting progressively longer whoops - quick question: do you prefer lots of short chapters or fewer & a little less frequent but longer? Thank y'all for sticking with me, pleaseplease review :3_**


	7. Chapter 7

I walked straight in without knocking - this had to be the quickest friendship I'd ever developed. I'd never just _fitted_ so easily with a group of people before. It probably helped that they let me in as if I'd been there all along. PJ and Chris were on the floor, taking apart some complicated looking camera equipment. Bryony was lying on PJ's bed reading a book and I guessed Phil was in a class. Chris looked up briefly in greeting, but was too absorbed in his work to say anything. I collapsed in Phil's bed, letting out a sigh of relief as I dropped my heavy bag.

I paid little attention to their conversation as I pulled out the essay I was supposed to have written several weeks ago, settling down opposite Bryony in comfortable silence. The room smelled warm and homely. The scents of the three boys merged to form a woody, musky aroma so different to the smell of sweat and booze that wafted out of most of the rooms. I leant against the heavy curtains as I wrote, able to gaze out the window towards the forest in the distance. A guy in a purple shirt was out jogging towards the woods and the tops of the trees looked almost golden in the sunlight. I couldn't see the path I'd followed with Phil, pretty sure it was on the other side near the station. I'd barely seen him since Saturday and the river seemed so many miles away from the stuffy confines of the classrooms. I hadn't mentioned it to anyone; I wasn't even entirely convinced it was real. It felt like if I let the words escape my mouth they'd be gone forever.

"Why don't we put the dance bit in the title and end sequences?"

This caught my attention, literature instantly forgotten.

"Yeah that's probably easier." PJ agreed, "I reckon it could look pretty cool too. Spooky silhouette dancing, blood effects, music... that sorta thing."

The picture formed in my mind and I was already choreographing, leaps, jumps, a loose contemporary style... I wondered what music they'd pick, presumably they had to write that too. Maybe PJ would sing...

I thought about dancing. We'd get the studio when no one was around, I wanted it just the three of them. PJ and Chris because it was their project, Phil because well... I'd been secretly wanting to dance for him since that first kiss in the bushes. I wanted him to see me fly.

It didn't stop me being horrifically nervous though. What if I was awful? They'd be too polite find someone else, what if I failed them? What if Phil was put off me forever? What if I danced into a mirror or something... too many what if's. I tried to stop myself thinking about it.

"I hope Phil gets a move on." Chris sighed, looking at his watch. "I really need to show him how this works so he can handle the camera this evening."

"It's that guy he's seeing." PJ muttered. "He's probably fucking him in the toilets or something, his lesson finished half an hour ago."

I froze. The word I had been writing came to an abrupt end with a huge ink blot, but I didn't notice. My eyes were wide, transfixed on the paper. It took me a full minute to remind myself to breathe. It was another minute before I managed to slowly and manually unclench my hand, the pen leaving an angry red imprint in my skin. I turned my head slowly to face them. They hadn't noticed me.

"What?" I whispered, my voice high and shaky.

Chris looked up at me in surprise. "I just said we're going to use the Panasonic, better pivoting system."

"No I mean earlier. Is Phil – does he have a boyfriend?" I tried to keep my face neutral, cursing myself inside.

I'd been so fixated on what was really a quick kiss. A spur of the moment thing. It meant nothing. _Nothing_. I'd been so _stupid_ to think that there was anything to it, that Phil and I...

"Nah," PJ said, trying to reassure me. His green eyes were concerned, his brow furrowed. "Not really anyway. I mean there's just this guy he sees sometimes – they'll walk off into the forest together or something, we just leave them too it I mean I don't actually think –it's -it might just be a friends with benefits situation or something..." He looked apologetic. I could tell that he could tell that I... ugh.

"Oh." I said quietly, "Who is it?"

"Jakob something, he doesn't go here." Chris frowned sympathetically at me, getting up to sit on the bed, clearly wavering as to whether or not to put an arm round me. "I think they were together for a while, but they're definitely not anymore – at least, not like exclusively. They stopped seeing each other about a year ago I reckon, but every now and then we spot them wondering off."

PJ bit his lip, before joining me on the bed. "Look. Dan. I'm going to be straight with you on this because I don't want you getting hurt, you're a mate. He's always been really secretive and defensive over the whole thing so we never pushed it, but we'd assumed they see each other pretty much every day, when Phil er goes for walks in the forest. But like Chris said, our theory is they just go for a quick shag and that's all there is to it – I mean he still gets with people at parties and things, and I've seen his phone – they barely ever talk about anything other than when they're gonna meet. Don't give up mate! But like, at the same time, don't like get your hopes up too much, okay?" He put his arm round me and gave me a squeeze. "I'd take a guess that you're the cute relationship type, and if that's the case then Phil's probably not for you. Him and Jakob were weird even when they were together – they'd head off together for half the day but he never once introduced us and they didn't seem to go anywhere, like the cinema or anything. They'd just disappear, and he refused to even talk about him when he got back. Actually it was pretty soon after he moved in with us that he ditched him and started spending time with friends and doing normal people stuff."

Chris frowned at my expression, I was making no attempt to hide me despair. Everything was coming crashing down on me in one, horrific moment of realisation.

"That doesn't mean he doesn't want to be with you though. I've heard he's _really_ good." He winked, trying to make me smile – typical Chris.

A choking sob rose in my throat and I buried my face in my hands. Chris looked helplessly at PJ and they both put their arms around me.

"Hey, hey Dan. Please don't cry. I had no idea you felt like that about him. I'm so sorry." PJ murmured, holding me tight.

"I'm not crying." I muttered through gritted teeth. "I'm just...surprised. Please, please don't tell him... about this. Please?"

"Of course not." PJ said, rubbing my shoulders soothingly. "It's okay."

I took a deep, steadying breath and raised my head again. Carefully staring straight ahead. "I'm only reacting like this because... well, on Saturday when we were in the forest... he kinda kissed me. And I guess I thought it meant something. Because, I've never kissed anyone before so I didn't realise and I..." I trailed off, focusing very hard on not looking like I was about to cry.

PJ looked furious, Chris sympathetic.

"Do you think he knew?" PJ muttered to Chris. "That Dan...?"

"No. Definitely not." Chris shook his head. "He's one of the nicest, sweetest people I've ever met. He would never have..."

I knew what they were saying, even though I couldn't see their expressions. Do you think Phil knew Dan was an _innocent little child_ before he started playing Big Boy games with him? It was just _a kiss_ for Christ's sake. I really was pathetic.

"I'm fine. Really I'm fine." I muttered, shrugging off their comforting arms and getting jerkily to my feet, scooping my folders into my arms. "I better go hand this paper in."

I saw them exchange a glance as I strode angrily out of the room.

* * *

X

* * *

My phone hit the wall amidst a torrent of whispered expletives. I'd been trying to finish the essay in the library, but my pathetic-ness had got the better or me and I'd turned on my phone so as to look up this Jakob guy on facebook. Only the college WiFi was horrifically slow, and the site was blocked on all their computers. I buried my face in my hands once more and took a few calming breaths. It was better if I couldn't look him up anyway, he was probably gorgeous and popular and talented and hilarious and had 1000 friends on facebook... Giving up, I gathered my scattered belongings and stormed out to a chorus of 'SHHH!'.

* * *

Halfway down the corridor, I walked straight into Phil Lester with a thud – a huge grin spread across his face. One look at his expression, and I knew.

"You look like you've been having fun." I spat.

Blissfully oblivious to the venom in my tone, his grin spread even wider. "Yeah I have." He giggled, as if sharing some private joke with himself.

I glared at him stonily for a full minute before his smile started to waver.

"D-Dan?"

But I was already gone, my legs carrying me, my head a blur.

And do you know what it felt like? _Of all the fucking irony._

It felt like dancing. My body was moving, but my brain wasn't in control - I felt emotion and my body reacted. Only there was nothing beautiful about the hot tears that fell freely down my cheeks.

* * *

X

X

X

* * *

_**I don't really like this chapter much and sorry it's so short, I've just written chapter 10 which is like 4k and i had to divide somehow idk but i've been updating every two days okay give me some credit ;)xo as always, feedback is massively appreciated - i don't have anyone to edit/beta so at some point i may do a rewrite - what would you change? thanky'all for reading and your lovely comments asdfghjklXX**_


	8. Chapter 8

My phone lay on the wooden desk, still lit up with a text from PJ.

_-Hey Dan - Phil just walked in and asked if you were okay, I panicked and said your uncle died – sorry, really hope your uncle hasn't actually died._

_Peej-_

I was scribbling an essay in messy blue biro, cursing my laziness as I read yet another angry email from my teacher.

And thinking.

And trying not to think too much.

* * *

X

* * *

_Hey Peej, thanks so much and sorry for being such a-_

_Peej, sorry if I was a bit-_

_Hi - thanks and just to let you know I'm not-_

Suddenly, a decision formed in my mind. I stopped trying to reply to PJ and brought up the dialling screen instead. Phil was on my speed dial, next to my mum. How tragic.

"Hi, Dan?" Phil's voice seemed surprised and a little apprehensive. I breathed out slowly through my mouth and closed my eyes.

"Hey Phil. I just wanted to say sorry about earlier. I - I'm just gonna tell it how it is, Peej told me about your boyf- some guy called Jakob something. And I was a little surprised. My uncle didn't die PJ was just covering for me. I overreacted, man period or something." I tried to keep my tone light but cringed internally, "I was just in a bad mood I guess, sorry mate."

I squeezed my eyes shut as I waited for a reply.

"Dan- I- Jakob's not my boyfriend! I wouldn't even call him a friend he's just a-an _acquaintance_ who I used to spend time with – Dan we're _not_ together. You have to believe me. Dan I..."

I could almost hear him chewing his lip.

"I really like you Dan." His voice was suddenly quiet. "I only like you. And, if you want to know, the reason I was happy earlier was that well I had just seen Jakob - to tell him I didn't ever want to see him again. Me and Jakob, we were never like that. He probably has a girlfriend for all I know."

"So who is he then? Why do you spend so much time with him? What-" I asked, rolling my pen over and over in my hands.

"I- can't tell you. I'm sorry... it's complicated. If I could, I would – I _promise_. You have to trust me."

I stayed silent; lost for words for a full minute staring blankly at the wall.

"D-Dan? Are you still there?"

"Yeah," I breathed out, "Okay. Well I, thanks for letting me know. I- Bye." I hung up and immediately swore loudly.

Quickly I fumbled for the redial button, but changed my mind; instead bringing up the message I'd been typing to PJ and erasing it.

_Hey Peej. Thanks for that, I really appreciate it, but I just told him anyway – spur of the moment thing. _

_Quick question: Do you trust Phil? Cheers. _

_Dan-_

I waited.

Suddenly I realised I was chewing my nails. I wrenched my hand away from my mouth, cursing. I thought I'd ditched that habit years ago. I eyed the crudely bitten stumps with disgust.

_1 new message: PJ Liguori _

_Hey Dan, I did wonder what you'd said to make him lock himself in the bathroom. No worries. As to your question, you've got to make those decisions for yourself. Someone else's opinion won't change yours this is a part of life you have to deal with alone – I can't dictate your morals. Personally, I would trust Phil Lester with my life. Try not to hurt him. _

_Peej-_

My intake of breath was so sharp I managed to choke on it. Smooth. Coughing and spluttering, I reached again for the redial button.

"Hey-"Phil!"

"I- yeah, um hi Dan."

"I'm really sorry I hung up on you, my mum just came in my room. I just wanted to say I ahhh..." Suddenly I was terrified. I couldn't get the words out. I squeezed my eyes shut and decided to opt for the word vomit technique; a classic. Guaranteed to woo and impress.

"Ireallylikeyoutoosorryibelieveyou."

"Oh." Phil said, "Well, that's good." He started giggling, trying to choke out words through his laughter, and I couldn't help joining until we were both spluttering down the phone.

"I've got to go," Phil said eventually, gasping for breath. "but I'll see you tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah sure." I grinned. "Bye!"

"Bye!"

I sat for a moment, staring at my computer screen, a huge smile spread across my face. My phone buzzed again.

_1 new message: PJ Liguori_

_Good call. See you tomorrow _

_PJ-_

* * *

X

* * *

"So who is this Jakob kid if he's not your boyfriend?" PJ was lounged across the grass, soaking up a rare sunny morning with a ham sandwich and half a banana.

I watched as a shadow seemed to pass across Phil's eyes. He didn't reply for a moment, instead continued building his daisy chain crossed legged under the tree.

"I'd rather not talk about it actually." He murmured.

"Oh. Kay, no worries." PJ said awkwardly, opening one his textbooks and then closing it again before averting his gaze to his hands folded in his lap.

I watched Phil's face. He seemed unhappy; was it my imagination or was he very subtly chewing his lower lip?

Chris chose that moment to diffuse the tension by pretending to vomit up half his milkshake onto the grass and in no time everyone was laughing again.

It didn't stop me thinking though. I made a resolution to look up Jakob Something as soon as I got home.

* * *

"How's the Shakespeare coming along?" Chris yawned, leaning back on his hands with his eyes closed.

I darted forwards silently. "And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood!" I growled in his ear.

Chris jumped with a manly squeal and we fell about laughing.

"You're getting good. Too good." He raised his eyebrows impishly, and I retreated as fast as I could on my hands and knees.

"Nature seems DEAD, and WICKED dreams ABUUUSE!" He yelled to the sky in a rich Scottish accent, his face distorting horrifically as he crept towards me on his hands, twitching and convulsing. "The curtain'd sleep; witchcraft CELEBRATES!"

I hid behind Phil's laughing shoulders, shaking with a mixture of laughter and fear.  
"Pale Hecate's offerings, and wither'd... MURDER!" With a primal snarl, he leapt.

I screamed and pulled Phil over on top of me.

Chris and I tousled amidst Phil's protests, Chris barking random Scottish phrases between breaths.

"Ow!" "Noarrrgh get off me!" "SHE BE A BONNY WEeeeE LASSSSSS!" "Jesus Christ!" "Shit!" "Owwwwfucking hell mmmfffphAA" "Away an beeil yer eaaaid!" "Ye gonny no get away from me THAT easily LADDIE!"

Phil scrambled away from the mass of flailing limbs with a squeal, which left Chris on top of me howling Macbeth at the sky. "The woolf, whose HOOOOOOOWWL's his watch!"

He underestimated my dancer's legs though and with a bit of shifting I had him in the perfect position. With a grunt, I launched him into the sky. I overdid it a bit though as Chris was a lot lighter than I'd anticipated, flinging him bodily into PJ with a yell and a crash.

"You two are such children." Phil tutted, but ruined it with a snort of laughter as we untangled ourselves with moans of pain and inspected our respective bruises.

"Chris started it." I grumbled with a grin.

"Well you didn't have to employ your bloody rocket launcher legs." Laughed Chris, massaging his arse tenderly. "I'm going to have the biggest bruise..."

"PJ will have to be careful tonight." Phil grinned, poking his tongue out of the corner of his mouth.

"Shut up." PJ laughed, punching Phil on the arm.

I lay back panting with a smile, closing my eyes to the sky.

Life was good. They were weird sure, but they were... fantastic.

* * *

X

* * *

A shadow fell across my face and I opened my eyes, squinting against the sun, expecting to see Chris or PJ back for revenge.

Too late, I realised this figure was far too large to be any of my new friends. A heavy boot crashed into my ribs and I cried out.

"Get up, faggot." Knuckles growled.

I scrambled into a sitting position, glancing over my shoulder. Chris, PJ and Phil sat staring stonily up at Knuckles in hostile silence.

"What do you want." I muttered.

"I wanna know where you been all this time. But it look like I found the answer." Knuckles let his eyes span slowly over the four of us with content, spitting out his chewing gum onto the grass at my feet. I could see his slow mind working, the cogs turning with a rusty squeal of protest. He was trying to decide whether he could get away with thumping me right here and now. A decision formed so obviously behind his eyes that he might as well have had a light bulb spring up above his head. "I guess I'll see you around, faggot."

He lumbered into the distance with a brief backwards glare.

Somehow I didn't think I'd seen the last of him.

"Well, that's enough excitement for one day." PJ said, after a moments silence. "Let's go do some _learning_."

Little did he know, the excitement had only just begun.

* * *

X

X

* * *

_-Jake Clayton [4 mutual friends]_

_-Jake Mansford [friends]_

_-John Ford [78 mutual friends]_

_My room was lit only by the red glow of my alarm clock's digital display and the pale light of my laptop screen. Phil didn't have any friends called Jakob, and I couldn't find him in directory. Or in the alumni of any college in Reading._

_Curiouser and curiouser_

* * *

X

X

X

* * *

**_Sorry about the horrifically clichéd 'excitement's only just begun!1111!' line, it was my way of letting you know that the plot development is imminent woo (yes it took me a while shh)_**


	9. Chapter 9

"We're meeting at 6am tomorrow. Don't forget!"

"Oh God." I moaned.

Phil winked and jumped away from the window with a wave as the bus pulled away from campus. I sat back in my seat and groaned. The girl next to me patted my arm sympathetically.

* * *

X

* * *

"Morning!"

The phone was brighter than the centre of the bloody sun and scorched my retinas, leaving a blind spot in front of my eyes that I tried to blink away.

"Hey Phil. What do you want."

"Just making sure you're up."

"Well clearly I am."

"Are you out of bed though?"

"..."

"Dan...?"

"..."

"Daniel."

"..."

"Don't make me call Chris over-"

"I'm moving I'm moving!" I grunted, pulling myself up and rubbing my eyes awake. I turned to the curtains. It was still dark outside.

"I hate you all."

* * *

X

* * *

I stomped up and down on the grit path trying to stay warm. The sun was just starting to creep over the horizon, but the night air lingered in the dawn chorus. James Street was still sleeping, so I turned in astonishment as a small, battered looking grey Fiat swung round the corner and started heading up the hill towards me and the building site.

"I didn't know you had a car." I said, surprised, as PJ swung out of the driver's seat with a yawn.

"Nah, I'm not that rich. It's my parents'; they let me borrow it for all the camera equipment. Would've been a bitch taking this lot on the train." PJ crunched back to the boot of the small car, narrowly avoiding being hit by the back door as Phil flung it open with his foot, his head focused on the tripod he was manoeuvring out of the back seat.

"Hey dancer Dan." Chris grinned as he wandered round from the passenger side, clapping me on the back.

"Don't you dare." I cringed.

"Morning sleepy head." Phil smiled through the window at the sound of my voice, still struggling with the tripod.

Chris jumped forward to give him a hand and I was left standing watching, acutely aware of how useless I was.

"When are Bryony and Adam getting here?" I asked.

"Any minute now." PJ replied, his voice muffled by a heavy camera case.

I scuffed my feet around in the dirt as I waited, turning my face to the building site. It was surrounded by a high chainlink fence, easily climbable but somehow imposing and institutional. Tall skeletons of buildings constructed from huge grey slabs of concrete reached into the sky, creating phantom streets and walkways coated in fine grey dust. It was eerily quiet; muffled, cold and emotionless. It was hard to imagine living, breathing people making their homes here. So I guess in that respect it was perfect.

"Right! Let's get this show on the road." Chris came up behind me, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

"Okay then. Just one question," I said mildly, "how are you planning to get all the equipment over that fence?"

* * *

X

* * *

"Aaaaand action!" PJ yelled.

Bryony let loose a disturbingly realistic scream that sent a shiver down my spine as she ran across the shot, Phil carefully panning the camera as she leapt over half built walls and ditches perused by Chris and Adam in full zombie garb.

I'd spent most of the shoot just watching, my big moment was going to be filmed at sunset for maximum dramatic effect and I couldn't do much to help, except shift rubble and help carry stuff. They didn't trust me with their expensive cameras. Sitting around for several hours left me restless, and I got up again to wander round the site. The builder's machines had been left overnight, but without any keys they only provided entertainment for a few minutes. A large yellow, brutal looking contraption caught my eye and I went to investigate. It seemed to be designed to crunch up some of the rubble for transport, and was certainly overflowing. I started sifting through lazily, looking for some good bricks for the explosion scenes that wouldn't be missed. I unearthed a scrap of purple fabric amongst the concrete and tugged at it curiously. My hands touched something cold and waxy. I pushed aside some more bricks and pulled up a human arm, clothed in a ripped purple shirt, gruesome gashes in the skin. I poked at it, fascinated, trying to lift it out to get a better look.

"Woah Bryony you've really gone to town on this one, it's so realistic! Literally, where in Reading did you find such a-AHHH JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!"

I leapt backwards. I'd pulled at the arm, but it didn't come away at the elbow like I'd expected. A whole forearm followed, and then a shoulder; and then a neck – pale white and bulging. And then a face. Eyes wide, pupils rolled into the back of the head exposing milky white. The expression was blank and gaunt, a single dribble of dried blood ran down one side of his face, matted and crusted into his mop of brown hair.

I blanched. Shock poured over me. I was going to be sick, right then and there. I collapsed on the ground on all fours, shaking and retching. My head was spinning. All I registered before I blacked out was the sound of Phil's running feet; a moment of silence, and then a scream.

He was still screaming when I came round.

"Phil! Phil calm down! Phil breathe please just breathe!" Chris's shouts filled my ears, but they seemed as if they were coming from far away, behind a glass screen. All I could hear was a ringing in my ears which refused to go away. I was vaguely aware of PJ beside me with his hands on my shoulders.

"Dan? Dan can you hear me? Are you okay? What did you see?"

I closed my eyes, my head swaying again. "There's a dead body in there." I whispered, the taste of vomit on my tongue.

PJ's sharp intake of breath was drowned out by a sudden silence. Phil had stopped screaming.

My eyes finally focused and I took in the scene. Chris, Adam and Bryony were gathered around Phil, who was stood rooted to the spot – staring blankly into the distance. PJ was crouched down next to me. All of them were eyeing the heavy metal bucket with terror.

"Don't go near it." Adam muttered, clinging onto Bryony's arm. "I think we can believe them."

"Are you okay Dan?" PJ asked me again.

I took a deep breath. "Yeah." I said, my voice hoarse. "Just a little shaken. I, I've never seen a dead person before. I reckon I'd have been okay if I hadn't fucking _touched_ it." I shuddered, still lightheaded and faintly nauseous.

"Did - did you recognize it-them?" PJ asked tentatively.

I shook my head, trying to swallow.

Only that wasn't quite true, I thought suddenly. I had seen that purple shirt before. But where?

"Phil? Do you know who it is-was, oh god." PJ cringed. "I don't really wanna go look..."

Phil turned slowly to face PJ – his eyes wide and terrified. He froze for a moment, and then slower still he shook his head. He blinked. Then his gaze turned to me. There was something in his eyes, something beyond the shock and revolution I was feeling. It was almost pleading.

I frowned, trying to understand what he was communicating to me. I shook my head helplessly. His brow furrowed pitifully and a single tear dropped out of his left eye. That was too much for me and I got shakily to my feet and ran forwards. I wrapped my arms around him and he clung to me, sobbing quietly into my shoulder. The other four held a murmured conversation as they stood around us.

"What do we do?"

"I guess we just call the police and they'll come and... deal with it."

"D'you think... that they'll think that we did it?"

"Nah... No, they can't - we wouldn't have called if we did, and they've got people who can tell how long it's dead for. We're not going to prison don't worry. We'll probably get into trouble for breaking in here though..."

"Shit. There goes our shoot. There's no way we'll be able to come back either, it's a crime scene."

"Do you think... do you think we maybe could... just, keep shooting a little longer before we call I mean..."

There was silence for a moment, then Bryony cut in.

"I don't think they could take it. You do what you want, but we need to get those two _out_."

I thanked her silently through screwed shut eyes as I held Phil closer still.

"Oh yeah, absolutely. Well I guess... well maybe just a few more shots, we'll move right away to the other side though, obviously..."

"Why waste this golden opportunity though, let's get a few close ups of the dead guy!"

I heard a muffled thud and then an "Ow!"

I guessed Chris's twisted humour was not appreciated.

* * *

My breathing had slowed by now and I felt kind of guilty for not crying. But I didn't feel sad. I didn't know him. It was like walking in graveyard and stumbling across an open grave.

I felt numb, sick and still slightly dizzy. But the tears certainly weren't splashing down onto anyone's hoodie in waves. I tried to rub Phil's back soothingly, pulling him tighter. I looked up for help and caught PJ's eye. He was staring sadly at Phil, a look of understanding in his eye. Obviously there was something I didn't know. What mattered now though was making Phil feel better so, trying to ignore the circle of people around us, I ducked down and kissed Phil quickly on the cheek, blushing. A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. I breathed out in relief, cradling him in my arms once more.

More voices joined the murmur in the background. Apparently Chris had decided to call the police after all. A horrible sinking feeling rose in my stomach when I realised I'd probably have to make a statement, seeing as I found the body. Phil too. I gave his shoulders a squeeze and closed my eyes against his hair.

* * *

X

* * *

"Have they identified the body yet?"

"No, it's all hushed up actually - they asked us not to talk to newspapers and not to tell anyone, then offered us counselling." I rolled my eyes at the thought of the burly police officers sitting me down to talk about 'feelings'. "They said there's a lot more to the case than just a murder, and they're worried that if it gets out there will be more dead bodies cropping up. But that's all they'd tell us." I shrugged, focusing on the burger I was eating.

"Intriguing." PJ murmured.

The tone had been sombre all day; I'd stayed over in Phil's bed to help him sleep. Truthfully I didn't fancy walking home on my own anyway. As soon as I left Phil's arms I saw _that_ face in every reflective surface, behind every corner, in every magazine or billboard... I shuddered. Phil and Chris were in lessons so PJ and I went to McDonalds – looking for comfort food rather than the paper sandwiches served in the college canteen.

"Do you know why Phil acted... the way he did?" I asked in between chips.

PJ sighed sadly. "Yes. But I think I should let him tell you as and when he wants to. It's not my story to tell."

I nodded, swirling a chip around in the little paper ketchup pot. "Fair enough. Did any of you actually see the body? Or was it just me and Phil?"

"it's 'Phil and I', actually, and no. None of us wanted to go anywhere near after your reactions." PJ grinned.

"Yeah _I know_ but that sounds stupid. You guys are made of steel." I laughed. "I'd have thought Chris would have been well up for it, I'm surprised he didn't try to take it home and keep it in the cupboard."

"Me too," PJ grinned, "He's not really as fucked up as he pretends to be though. He's a big softie on the inside. He likes long cuddles and rom-coms. And knitting."

"Are you serious?!" I spluttered, showering the table with mushed up potato.

"Yeah!" PJ laughed, "You should see the scarf he's working on, it's incredible."

"Oh my god." I laughed, wiping my eyes, "I've just got this incredible mental picture of Chris having a natter with a bunch of old biddies up at the hospice and knitting a tea cosy." I chuckled to myself. "And then making some sort of horrific sexual innuendo and causing multiple heart attacks and a stroke."


	10. Chapter 10

The night was as black as it was dark and as dark as it was black, which was very. Mist washed over the sleeping town but its ethereal silver was lost in the shroud of night. I sat hunched over my laptop, my room lit only by its dusty glow. Sleeping hadn't been my forte since Sunday and once again I found myself scouring newspapers and police reports at 3AM for any sign of our mysterious Purple Shirt Guy. I wouldn't say it had been haunting me; considering the circumstances I thought I was coping pretty well. It was early days yet, but I was pretty sure I wasn't traumatised for life. I ran my fingers through my hair - maybe that was a bad thing? I was more guiltily and morbidly fascinated by the whole thing than horrified. Once I'd got over the initial shock it was kinda... exciting. Oh God. I closed my laptop forcefully, slipping into bed and firmly holding my eyes shut.

* * *

X

* * *

"Oh I almost forgot, you up for filming the sequences today? The dance studio's free from four onwards."

I gulped audibly and Chris laughed. "I'm sure we can find someone else if you don't want to do it, I mean..."

"Oh shut up. Yeah fine, but I haven't choreographed anything because you haven't given me any music or anything?" I tried to keep the rising panic out of my voice, running my fingers through my hair. It was an annoying habit, I'd developed it in secondary school to hide my anxiety in social situations but now I couldn't shift it. (My hair had been completely static by the time Knuckles had finished his sadistic 'induction'.)

"I think the plan at the moment is just to film you doing some random leaps and shit and then just mash them all together. Don't worry about it, if we decide we need a full blown routine we'll give you plenty of warning-"

Chris was cut off by a squealing girl hurtling through the middle of our conversation on a spinning desk chair with a shout of laughter.

The theatre building was always the same: loud, raucous and melodramatic.

The thick black curtains that swathed three sides of the stage area were rippling constantly as people forced their way past at high speed with swords and cutlasses. Another group was putting on a modern take on Hamlet and were trying to figure out how to stage a shoot up, resulting in strobe lights and explosion effects every few seconds – much to the distaste of the tear drenched couple rehearsing 'Romeo and Juliette'.

A tiny girl balanced precariously on a ladder adjusting the lighting while another struggled with a heavy spotlight. Everyone was whipped into frantic activity, the final exams just weeks away. Chris and I lounged across a faux-marble table trying to juggle several plastic vegetables and a pig's head.

"It's weird that they still haven't released anything about the dead guy." Chris mused.

"I told you. It was definitely murder, and they don't want anyone else killed. They just told us they reckon he was killed on Thursday and not to worry because we weren't suspects." I shrugged.

"But what about his family? They'll want to have a funeral, but they can't invite anyone because it's all hush hush. And presumably he had some friends, so they will have to be told, and you know how word gets round. Unless they solve this pretty quick, everyone's gonna know anyway. They might at least have told us seeing as we were the ones who discovered it..."

I rolled my eyes. "Technically it was me that discovered it. You were all too chicken to go near it. Anyway - why does it matter? People turn up dead all the time. We didn't know him, he wasn't even from around here."

_Except, he was._ The little voice in the back of my head whispered. _You saw him just a few days before. Only from the back, but a purple shirt is a purple shirt. And most people wouldn't wear a purple shirt while out jogging..._

And then it hit me. I'd seen a guy with brown hair and a purple shirt jogging into the woods, the day I confronted Phil about Jakob.

I blanched.

Phil and Jakob were in the woods with a murderer. They could have walked right past him without knowing. What if they'd seen? What if the murderer _saw them_? He probably would have killed them both on sight. The thought made my knees weak. Phil, my Phil was just a few metres away from a murderer – he could have been just inches away from death.

"Dan? Dan are you there or have you fallen asleep?"

I shook my head and blinked. "Sorry I... daydreaming. You were saying?"

I wouldn't tell anyone, except maybe the police. I still didn't know why Phil had freaked out quite so badly, but I was pretty sure this knowledge wouldn't help his state of calm.

* * *

X

* * *

The changing room off the side of the dance studio smelled like feet. I stood alone in the small room, considering. Did I change into a leotard and tights, for the sake of the cinematography, or did I opt for shorts and a vest top for the sake of my dignity. Phil's voice rose above the others' in his gorgeous, melodic laughter outside the door and my mind was made. Baggy shorts. Another squirt of deodorant wouldn't go amiss either.

The floor was cold under my bare feet. I rubbed a little rosin on my heels; partly because today really wasn't a good day to sleep over and land on my arse, and partly to delay opening the door. I closed my eyes. Suddenly, I realised I was dragging my fingers through my hair again. I yanked my hands away, keeping them busy by running through a couple of stretches – more to psych myself up than anything else. As I pulled my left leg up to my ear, the door flew open with a crash.

"Oi Dan did you get stuck in your jeans or something?" PJ called.

"Ahh no he's just limbering up." Chris grinned.

Phil made a show of looking my up and down very slowly and deliberately, before raising his eyebrows appreciatively and winking.

I rolled my eyes, already blushing, and strode past them into the mirrored hall. This building was a lot smaller than my studios, and – to my horror – one wall was lined with large windows which overlooked the forest instead of mirrors. Suddenly my mouth was dry, a lump rising in my throat. A mass of tripods and cameras were set up in the back two corners, and I tried not to think of the thousands more eyes that could potentially see me this afternoon.

"Can we just get this over and done with." I said through gritted teeth.

Phil took my hand briefly as I passed, giving it a tight squeeze, and I smiled gratefully at him.

"Well Dan, you're in charge. If you want to just put some music on and do your thing and we'll take as much footage as we need. We've already fixed the lighting and everything; silhouette only have no fear." PJ disappeared behind a camera with a reassuring smile and suddenly I was alone in the middle of the room. I gulped.

Think of Phil.

Quickly, I skipped over to the sound system before I could change my mind and plugged my iPod in. I bit my lip as I scrolled through the tracks. I knew I would have to do a routine I loved - I didn't have the confidence to just _improvise_.

Human – The Killers

My all time favourite song and a routine I'd been working on for several months. I glanced over my shoulder and caught Phil's eye, his crystal blue staring steadily into my dull brown. He gave me a thumbs up and I pressed play without looking.

* * *

The opening bars kicked washing a wave of calm from my toes up to the top of my head, and I wondered why I was ever nervous in the first place. This was what I am. A smile spread across my face, and, slowly, I raised my arms.

Close your eyes. Clear your heart.

Cut the cord.

My legs move without signal from my brain. My eyes are wide, moving through the studio one step ahead of the rest of me. It's a kind of breathless excitement. There's a surge of energy, a pulse running through me. It's hard to explain.

But every dancer feels it. It's what we live for.

My heart is pounding; the windows and the cameras and Chris, PJ and even Phil are all invisible. It's just me and the music now. Every position I hit, every jump and every turn, I feel a surge of endorphins. It's the feeling of getting it right, knowing exactly where you're going, stretching, pointing, twisting... it's a feeling of strength and power. Just my body and the music. And sometimes I feel like I can almost fly.

_Are we human_

_Or are we dancers_

And now I know. I've never been human, not really. I'm a dancer.

And that's the reason I never fitted in, was never truly comfortable with other people. But now, here, in this tiny mirrored studio on the edge of a forest, two worlds are colliding.

I'm not on my knees anymore; the answer is right in front of me.

* * *

I came to an end with the music, winding down to the floor as the last bars faded out – flushed and breathless, my heart pounding in my ears.

There was a moment of silence, and I looked up – suddenly apprehensive.

Phil was standing just a few metres in front of me.

Huh.

When did he get there? I hadn't noticed him move. His glistening eyes bore into mine and I bit my lip, anxious. Why was no one saying anything? Was I really that awful? I thought it went quite well...

There was a movement from the corner. "Holy shit." Muttered Chris.

And then Phil was moving forwards with impossible speed. He crashed into me, his hands winding round my hair and pulling me close, his lips moulding furiously into mine. I wrapped my arms around his back, kissing him back with all my might, amidst a chorus of wolf whistles from the back wall.

Eventually, Phil released me – gasping for breath, his eyes shining.

"You're beautiful." He whispered.

I just stared into those crystal eyes, unable to formulate a response.

"There is one slight problem though..." PJ's voice drifted from the corner and I was pulled out of my haze, turning to face him with a bewildered blink.

"We were all so transfixed we forgot to press record."

* * *

X

* * *

We stayed filming right into the evening, taking shot after shot at every possible angle. And truth be told, I enjoyed every minute. The other three talked animatedly as they headed out into the cool night air, leaving me to change. I emerged from the stuffy room - turning to spray copious amounts of deodorant as I went. (My one good deed for the day). As the cloud of spray cleared a movement caught my eye in the far window. My blood ran cold. Knuckles Ned stood in the shadows outside the studio, his face illuminated only by the orange glow of his cigarette. One look at his expression and I knew he'd been standing there a long time. He'd seen everything.

He stared steadily into my eyes, his expression unreadable. As I watched, he dropped the cigarette butt and ground it into the asphalt with his foot before disappearing silently into the shadows. I was shaking by the time I reached the door, running straight into Phil's arms and burying my face in his shoulder.

"Dan?! Dan what's wrong?"

They were all around me, trying to calm me down and rubbing my shoulders.

"Let's go let's get out of here quickly before he brings the others!" I whispered, tugging Phil along behind me.

"Before who brings what others – Dan what's going on?!" PJ's voice was high pitched and fearful. He grabbed my arm and spun me around. "Dan. Talk to us." His green eyes glistened.

"Knuckles was standing outside the whole time," I whispered faintly. "He's coming for me Phil, he's going to get me."

I couldn't make out their faces in the dark, but there was a hushed silence.

"Don't worry about them. He's not going to attack us all. He's a coward – he'd never take on even numbers. Let's just get inside..." Chris's voice wasn't convincing. "Maybe you should stay over tonight."

We walked briskly and in silence back to the dorm building, each of us alert and taking it in turns to jump at every small noise. Phil and I clung to each other like children even as we were getting changed for bed.

It was a subdued conversation at dinner, and we sat for a long time in the dimly lit room speaking little before going to bed.

x

x

x

* * *

_**so yeah naturally as soon as something interesting happens in your plot the sensible thing to do is completely ignore it for a couple of chapters. clearly i have thought this through meticulously :P I don't wanna be all whoreish asking for reviews but like when one chapter doesn't get as many then i'm scared to upload the next one because i assume it was pretty awful and that's why this one was late :c ily all 3 thanks to dani and caitlin for being awesome **_


	11. Chapter 11

Dread hung like a black cloud over my head since I saw Knuckles in the darkness, and had pushed all thoughts of Purple Shirt Guy out of my head. I clung to the corridors, breaking into a sprint if I had to travel too far from the safety of the buildings. Going home each day probably aged me twenty years. I kept expecting him to leap out from behind a bush with a machete; to sneak into my room at the dead of night; to appear at my window when I opened the curtains in the morning...

The worst part was knowing it would happen. That he would come; just like the winter and the night. But not knowing when.

I'd been carrying a small penknife in my pocket to college each day. I didn't have a clue what I'd actually do with it when it came to it, but it made me feel a little safer.

* * *

X

* * *

I knew, as I walked in the doors. It would happen today. I just had to be ready for it when it did.

* * *

X

* * *

"Phil! PHIL!" I screamed, catching him as he came down the steps, choking for breath.

"What's wrong?! Dan are you okay?" He grabbed my shoulders.

"Knuckles and Gabes and Jake all came for me. Oh God. I was only alone for _a second_. I was late so I cut across the field and they just _appeared_ out of nowhere and started coming at me and Gabes pulled out a fucking KNIFE and I just ran oh God Phil we've got to get out of here _please_!" My voice was desperate and gasping.

"Dan – Dan calm down – we can't go anywhere, I have lessons- I, you'll be fine in college I-"

"Please Phil. Please, let's just get out of here. I can't take it anymore. I've been running for three days, I know they're going to hurt me I just can't cope please, I just have to get out. Please Phil." I whispered, hot tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.

Phil pulled my into a hug, rocking me backwards and forwards soothingly.

"Please Phil. Just for one day. I. Have. To. Get. O_ut_."

He bit his lip.

"Okay." He said quietly. "Let's go, quickly before my teachers notice I'm not there."

A little sob rose in my throat and I squeezed him thankfully.

* * *

We ran hand in hand without a backwards glance at the high brick walls of the college. We had no food and very little money, but I didn't care. We were escaping - if only for a day.

"Where do you want to go?" Phil asked, breathless from running by the time we reached the train station.

We grinned at each other, giddy with freedom.

"I don't know. I don't particularly mind either, so long as it's with you."

He rolled his eyes. "Soppy git." He giggled.

"How about... the sea? The place you go, sometimes? Where you used to go to school? You promised you'd take me."

"Okay." Phil said simply. "Let's go. It looks like it's about to rain."

And so we boarded a train into the great unknown (at least, for me). I didn't want the journey to end. Just sat in front of Phil; laughing and joking, holding his hand under the table, complaining loudly about the price of crisps and gazing.

Watching the world go by without us.

* * *

X

* * *

"Look." Phil said. "Cormorants."

Two black birds hung poised above the sea. We watched them gliding and pitching as we walked. Even from the top of the cliff I could hear the rush and roar of the waves through the wind.

We stopped for a moment to stare under shelter of a tree, great, fat droplets falling around us. Out across the water, under the clouds, the sea was the colour of coal. There was a strange grey-purple light in the sky, like there was a storm coming.

"I shouldn't have taken you here." He whispered.

I looked at him questioningly, not saying anything. There was something in his tone. I tried to say in my expression that he could talk to me, if he wanted.

He looked steadily into my eyes. It felt like he was reading me, and I just stood there. Letting him. Eventually, it seemed that he had made up his mind.

"Do you see, over there? There's a bit of the cliff that juts right out into the sea."

I looked where he was pointing and nodded. A small path of stone steps cut into the rock wound down to the shingle beach, where the waves crashed into the rocks. Just to the right, the cliff jutted out – falling sharply into the black swell. Most of the cliffs were overgrown with clumps of grass and shrubbery all the way down but this bit was different – from GCSE geography I guessed that it was made from a harder rock; it stood taller than the rest of the cliff line, and the slope was sheer and jagged.

Phil stared blankly at the rocks at the base of the cliff.

"What about it?" I prompted.

Something stirred within him, but his eyes remained dead. "My best friend jumped off it." He murmured, his voice like a whisper fading into the hush of the waves. "When he was fourteen."

I let my mouth fall open, knowing I should say something. Instead, my gaze joined his, focusing reluctantly on the grey rocks that protruded threateningly over the waves. The salt spray burned my eyes and the wind whipped my hair across my face. The water looked freezing, and suddenly I didn't fancy a swim so much anymore.

I took Phil's hand. He didn't move it away, only pulled his eyes away slowly to look down at our fingers laced together.

"It was three years ago. He was the first boy I ever kissed, and had been my best friend since I was two." He was speaking quietly, his voice deadpan. "His name was Jamie. He had blonde hair and brown eyes, and I never once realised how unusual that was. I just took it for granted. He was always there for me, and everyone else really. He was our rock. Whenever anyone was sad, they went to Jamie. He always listened, he always cared. And no one ever asked him about himself, how he was doing. Not even me, and I was supposed to be his best friend for fuck's sake."

I shiver ran through his body.

"He was happy, he was loving, he was fine. He was the only one who wasn't fucked up at least a little bit. Turns out we were wrong about that, too." He still hadn't taken his eyes of our hands, and he was clinging on – as though to stop himself being swept off the edge with the wind.

"I was feeling a little depressed, some guy had called me names or I'd just lost at Mario kart or something, I don't know. But I went to Jamie's, I knew he would cheer me up, he was never down. Only he didn't answer the door. A policeman did. And he'd taken his hat off and was holding it in his hands, and that's when I knew. I knew something had happened. And I knew that we didn't know Jamie at all.

"After that I kinda went crazy." He whispered.

"I moved schools, I couldn't stand the stares. 'That's the kid whose boyfriend killed himself.' 'Do you think he beat him up?' 'Do you think he's gonna do it too?' So I came to Bradfield. I insisted on boarding, I couldn't handle the walk through town, past his house, past the school. For the first year I don't think I said a word to anyone. But then PJ accidentally filmed me coming out of the shower and Chris fell through my bedroom window, and two days later I moved in with them. I knew Jamie wouldn't have wanted that, he always cared so much when we were sad. He hated it. I know he wouldn't want me to feel what he felt, and that I had to go on living – for him. Because, it's my fault that he isn't any more."

We stood in silence watching the gulls for what seemed like hours.

"I'm okay now, though. I know it sounds horrific - and it is - but I don't get sad anymore. I think he's happy now. I come here a lot to think; only after Sunday it's a bit raw." He grinned at me, to show he really was okay.

I lifted his hand to my lips and kissed it. I didn't know why I did it, but it fitted somehow with the sea and the sadness and the rain. I knew I'd got it right because Phil gave me that look again, like I was one of those guys in the movies.

"I'm guessing we're not going swimming then?" I grinned, giving his hand a quick squeeze.

He shook his head ruefully. "No. I just took you to the middle of nowhere and got us both completely soaking, we'll probably die of hypothermia. It was stupid. I'm sorry."

"Hey. It's not your fault." I touched his face gently with my other hand, trying to spark some light into his darkened eyes. "Why don't we find some shelter? We don't need to do anything. We have all day."

"Where though?" He said despairingly, "There's nothing for miles."

I bit my lip, looking around the desolate cliff top. "There's farm buildings. Why don't we head over there?"

He was staring at the sea again, and I gently tugged him away, pulling him down the road, over a stile and into a field of windswept clover. We walked quickly, sticking close to the hedgerow for shelter. At some point his hand had slipped out of mine and I missed its warmth.

* * *

X

* * *

"It's empty. I don't think there's anyone in the house at all, and even if there was they wouldn't see us."

I nodded, coming out from behind a leafy bush and eyeing the barn he'd picked out. His eyes were alight in this new adventure, the sombre tone of the sea forgotten. It was surprisingly warm inside: stacked to the ceiling with round bales of hay. We wandered around the clear space on the floor and I pulled a couple of bales onto their ends so we could sit on them.

"So, what do we do now?"

He laughed. "Wait there. I'll be back."

He slipped out of the barn and into the rain. I heard him scrunch down the gravelled path towards the gate. I sat on a hay bale and waited, for... whatever would happen next. He wasn't long, came back in with a pile of twigs and some newspaper.

He frowned for a moment. "It'll have to be in that corner over there, I don't want to set this whole place alight. I nodded in agreement, slipping off the hay to help him clear a patch on the stone-mud floor. We made a little pyramid and I pulled out my lighter, sitting cross legged in the hay as we waited for the flames to catch hold.

"There's plenty of dry wood outside," he said, "We can dry our clothes as well."

He began to unlace his trainers. Was his heart slamming as fast as mine? All my clothes were wet. How many were we taking off? I pulled my vans off and placed them next to his by the fire. We peeled our socks off and laid them next to our shoes. I unzipped my leather jacket; I knew he was looking as I carefully hung it up over a hay bale so the heat could reach it. I watched him pull his hoodie off and spread it out on the floor. He was only wearing a thin shirt underneath.

"Is that a birth mark?"

A small, brown mark dotted his collar bone. I don't know why I'd pointed it out, I had plenty myself, but it just looked so peaceful on his clear skin. I traced the mark with my finger and he watched me. His skin was soft and I didn't want to stop. But I couldn't go on forever, so I pulled my hand away and put it back on my lap. We sat looking at each other. I looked away first.

Eventually, sleepy from the heat of the flickering flames, we lay back and gazed at the ceiling. Spider webs shivered in each of the four corners and in between the heavy wooden beams. We lay without touching, following the grains and cracks in the wood and breathing in the wood smoke and dusty-straw air. I wondered how old the barn was. The wood looked old; aged and stained from many winters. I wondered how many storms it had stood through like this one. Every now and then, I would sneak a look at Phil. Each glance made me feel giddy. The dark of his hair contrasting against the clear, crystal blue of his eyes. The shape of his body lying next to mine.

I had to keep reminding myself that it was real.

I wanted to touch him. I wanted to tell him to kiss me and hold me and never let me go. But words like that had never left my lips before, so instead I said: "Tell me what you're thinking."

He rolled over to face me and his damn eyes near took my breath away. They were so close. I could see colours in them I'd never noticed before, snow white flecks and deep hues of blue. And that fucking grin. Christ.

"I'm thinking about lots of things and nothing at all, all at the same time."

Of course I wasn't going to get a straight answer from him, he was Phil. He was Phil, and we were completely alone in the middle of a thunder storm. He was all mine. I tried to comprehend that thought, but my brain couldn't process it and just pushed it away. I did sort of know what he meant, though.

As I stared, he leaned over and laid his head on my shoulder.

I laughed. "What are you doing?"

"Listening to you."

I was suddenly aware of every breath, and every small movement. I tried to stay very still. "What do I sound like?" I whispered.

"Beautiful."

I felt like I was on the world's best morphine as he leaned in to kiss me.

* * *

I'd thought and dreamed of it for days as I lay awake in bed, and now here I was, drowning slowly in his lips.

* * *

I could feel his heart beating against my chest, the pulse in my neck thundering. It was how it should have been all along, why had we wasted so many minutes –hours - days without touching at all?

I was kissing Phil Lester on the floor of a hay barn in the middle of a thunderstorm. Outside it was dark, the wind roared and spikes of lightening lit up the sky. Inside, we were silent. There was no mobile signal, nobody knew we were here and there wasn't an occupied building for miles.

Every now and then the image of Knuckles and Jake and Gabes crept into my mind. The three of them were probably playing fifa with beers and hot girls right now. Maybe Gabes was shagging Leila. They were probably talking about me, planning their revenge, pumping for the next attack. Wondering where I was.

But the longer I kissed Phil, the less important these things became.

He stroked my hair. I dared to touch his hip. There was a vivid burst of electricity where my skin touched his. I buried my face in his neck and breathed in his scent. Phil smelled like candy and oceans and the warmth of a soft bed. He looked at me with glistening eyes, his breathing heavy and hitched like an engine. He looked like he was sinking, like he couldn't help himself as he reached to kiss me again. It made me want to laugh out loud. I was doing this to him. Me, skinny Dan Howell. The pussy ballerina. I'd been a dancer all my life, and never, ever had I dreamed I could feel so alive.

"I haven't ever..." I murmured as he began to unbutton my shirt, but then I gave up, because, in fact, I wanted him to unbutton it. It shocked me, that I could want this, when I'd never even kissed a boy before him.

"You want me to stop?"

I shook my head.

"We can just kiss," he said, "we don't have to do anything else."

"I don't want to stop."

His hand brushed along my neck to my jaw, and for some reason I wasn't cringing away. "Are you sure?" he said.

I nodded.

Then.

He was on his knees and he held out his hand. I sat up and together we slid the shirt up over my shoulders. It was the same shirt I'd worn the day I'd first spoken to him in the sports field; I'd spent the day following Knuckles around as he beat up eleven year olds. That felt like years ago, like another life.

And how easily that life slipped off.

* * *

X

* * *

Afterwards, we lay watching the cobwebs and listening to the storm as we waited for our breathing to slow. The fire had died down so low all that was left was the glowing embers, but our eyes had adjusted to the darkness and everything was bathed in purple velvet. A thin sheen of sweat glittered across Phil's chest as I lay with my head on his shoulder. My eyes took it all in, the pale, glowing sheen of his body. His dark hair, mussed and tangled now with strands of straw sticking up at odd angles. The smooth pink crescents of his lips. His arm around my waist, his face just inches away from my own, our legs tangled in the hay. We'd been keeping warm pretty effectively, but now as the fire died I started to shiver. I cursed myself silently, trying to hold my body still. If Phil noticed we'd have to get up, I'd have to leave his arms - maybe even leave altogether.

It was no good, of course.

"We should head home. Your parents will be wondering where you are. We can't stay here, you're freezing." His voice was soft and melodic, slightly husky after all the heavy breathing and moaning. I felt kinda proud, that I'd done that. I'd made his voice like that. I'd never got more emotion than an angry tut out of someone before.

"Can't we stay a little longer? Use the rest of the wood; put our clothes on... we'll be warm enough, if we cuddle."

He smiled fondly down at me, stuck his tongue out a little. "Fine. But not too long, okay?"

I grinned, burying my face in his chest. He laughed and wrapped his arms around me. "That means you have get off me, silly."

"I can't while you're holding onto me." I said, my voice muffled by his chest, as I surreptitiously bent my arms back to grab his wrists and hold them in place.

He snickered again, wriggling out of my grasp and toppling me on to the cold stone in one quick movement. I gasped at the ice, instinctively curling up into a ball and shivering uncontrollably.

I could hear him cracking up behind me, but his teeth were chattering too. "You do have a very nice little blue arse there, Daniel." He giggled.

I hissed, flushing and rolling over to seek some freezing dignity behind a hay bale. Behind the bale, I stared unashamedly as Phil chucked more wood onto the fire, coaxing it back to life. He hadn't put any clothes yet, and my breath was swept away from me again as the fire leapt up, illuminating his body in a glimmering, yellow light. The fire cast deep, purple shadows – defining every muscle and smooth angle, rippling as he moved. He looked up suddenly and caught my stare, flashing me that perfect grin.

"You must be freezing over there." He said, his voice soft and unabashed. "Come here."

And for some reason, I did. It wasn't dark any more, but here I was standing in front of him; and he was looking at me, and I was looking at him. And neither of us moved. The red didn't rise in my cheeks, my body didn't tremble, my arms didn't curve instinctively round to cover myself. His smile wasn't amused or laughing anymore as he held out a hand, and I took it without a seconds thought.


	12. Chapter 12

_**sorry**_

* * *

X

* * *

The forest seemed eerily quiet and sinister without Phil by my side. I glanced over my shoulder towards the dormitory windows. They were blank and faceless (Phil, Chris and PJ were all in media), but I couldn't help feeling as if someone was watching me. I tried to remember exactly where Purple Shirt Guy had entered the trees, and struck out into the darkness. This patch was completely different to the leafy, sunlit glen I'd walked in with Phil. The woods were dense and cold, and so dark I could only see a few trees ahead of me.

I wasn't sure exactly what I was looking for. Clues. Inspiration. But why did I care so much? The others had all but forgotten it, apart from Phil. Phil was the reason I was here. Something wasn't right, and I had sworn to get to the bottom of it.

I used my phone as an admittedly pretty pathetic torch, searching the ground for footprints or some kind of track. I had no idea what I was doing, each tree trunk looked exactly the same, the mud floor evenly soft and damp.

I wondered where Phil went with Jakob; if he took him to our river. Or maybe Jakob was the one who had shown Phil the river. I hadn't thought of that.

I shook the thought out of my head and continued searching.

_For what?_

The little voice in my head asked.

_You're not a detective, or a tracker. You've been watching too much Sherlock. Go back to Phil. You should trust him. He _is_ your boyfriend now, remember?_

And how could I forget? Phil Lester, with his glistening eyes and his soft pink lips. Phil Lester with his floppy fringe and crooked grin.

I was about to give up and leave when a flash of white caught my eye. A tiny scrap of paper caught in a bush close to the ground as though tossed aside, fluttering in the breeze. I stooped to snatch it, unfolding and flattening it against a tree trunk to try and make out the scribbled characters.

_30 Yao 22/04_

What did that mean? I hadn't the faintest clue and it was hardly anything to go on. I had no proof that this piece of paper had anything to do with Purple Shirt Guy, I wasn't even entirely sure I was in the right bit of forest. It could have come from anywhere, blown in the wind maybe. Nevertheless I folded it carefully into my pocket before leaving with a shiver.

There was a good chance I was standing unhealthily close to a murder scene. At the very least I was deliberately tracing the last steps of a human being - with a life and a family and friends. It was kinda morbid, and I broke self consciously into a jog as I made for the tall grey dormitory building.

* * *

X

* * *

It had been a long day at college and the bus had broken down on the way home, leaving me in a foul mood. Once I had collected an unhealthy assortment of snack-foods hunter gatherer style (from the cupboards), I headed upstairs to my room, collapsing on my bed with a sigh. I unloaded my bounty and tipped the contents of my bag onto the floor. As I did, a tiny scrap of paper I'd almost forgotten about fluttered innocently down onto blue carpet. I surveyed it for a moment before leaning back and propping myself up with pillows, turning my laptop on and assuming browsing position.

Just as I'd got comfy and signed in, I realised my headphones were on the desk - a whole three metres away. I groaned. I seriously considered gaming mute but after a brief pep talk I psyched myself up to the move. It took me another few minutes to get comfortable again once I was back, and I muttered angrily to myself under my breath.

Maybe it was the music I was playing or maybe it was the coffee I'd drained to try and get me through last period, but I couldn't concentrate on Guild Wars. This was unheard of. I changed the song several times a minute, skipping through playlists and creating a bizarre mix of Tchaikovsky and Metallica.

I was restless. I even picked up the scrap of paper I'd found in the forest and tried to find anyone in the phonebook with the name 'Yao'. There were a couple, but they were all elderly Chinese men living on the other side of Reading.

I searched to see if any info had been released about the body yet. I tried searching Jakob again. I ended up on Phil's facebook profile, scrolling happily through all his photos before suddenly remembering I didn't need to settle for virtual Phil. I had the real thing.

So I called him on skype, and didn't stop staring until 4am when he fell asleep in front of the camera and I just about died of cuteness.

* * *

X

* * *

Best Zombie Movie Ever filming ceased for less than three hours after the excitement at the building site, before recommencing with renewed gusto. It was all starting to come together, and we were filming some of the filler and transition shots in our lunch break.

The shoot was set up uncomfortably close to the woods in front of dorms, and I couldn't help feeling edgy. I hadn't told anyone yet about Purple Shirt Guy, not even the police. I wasn't sure why exactly, only that it had something to do with Phil. I was scared. I was uneasy. There were so many things left unexplained. Could it be just coincidence that he and Jakob were in the forest at the same time as PS guy? Or was there something I was missing?

Or maybe was I just paranoid.

Whatever happened, I wasn't ready to give up my investigation just yet.

The camera had been rolling constantly all break to make sure everything was captured. In hindsight, this was not such a great idea as the memory card reached capacity within half an hour. Most of the take had been ruined anyway by the mournful wail of a car alarm that refused to cease; it was painfully close but we'd searched for 15 minutes and still couldn't find the car. I wasn't doing much (as usual) so I volunteered to sprint back to their dorm for a spare. As I rounded the corner at a jog I stopped short in my tracks spraying gravel into the air to avoid crashing into Jake Mansford, who was pelting towards me with a hand clamped over his face.

I gasped. The whole left side of his face was streaked with blood, a great puffy welt swelling up under his eye. He was limping and peppered with bruises. From the way he was wheezing I guessed he'd been hit in the torso too, multiple times. As I stared, he stared back and – to my horror – a tear welled in his left eye and fell onto his cheek. He wiped it away furiously with his other hand – streaking more blood across his face.

"Get out of my way faggot!" He screamed, pushing past me with a sob.

I stared wordlessly after him. There were only two kids harder than Jake Mansford in the entire college, and they were his two best friends. I shook my head slowly. I couldn't really feel sorry for him, he usually brought it on himself. It was still strange though. Why would they beat him up? He was their dealer for everything from hard drugs to casual sex. Their reputations relied on him. I shivered.

Detouring round the back of the tennis courts took longer but I wanted to make sure I didn't run into Knuckles and Gabes, assuming they were nearby. I clattered up the stairs to their second floor dorm, my hand trailing along the metal banister as I went. Opening their door felt like coming home. I hated having to leave each day while my friends got to - well, have fun without me (as petty as that sounds). The computer chair was lying on its side, wheels spinning, but I didn't take much note – listening instead to their shouts of laughter muffled through the window.

Hurriedly, I searched the equipment corner for a spare memory card. I didn't know how many they had between them but there were a fair amount on the desk waiting to be transferred. I was tempted to call Phil and ask him where they were, but instead I decided to just move all the files onto his computer freeing up some space. While I waited I watched the three of them out the window. They were messing around and setting up for the next shot, PJ giving Chris a piggyback and chasing Phil round and round in circles. I snorted with laughter as they finally cornered him and crashed full force, bundling into the grass.

As I watched, a shadow moved in the line of trees just behind them. My blood ran cold for a split second and I froze, squinting. They were tussling with their backs to the woods, completely oblivious. Maybe it was Gabes and Knuckles. What if they weren't content with beating up Jake? What if they'd got so worked out they had energy to spare? I pressed my face up against the glass, resisting the urge to fling open the window and scream down at them. It was probably nothing. Or it could just as easily be a deer or something - I was being paranoid.

The car alarm started up again and a collective groan rose from outside the window.

I shivered, pulling myself deliberately away from the window and back to the computer. I'd been staring for a while and the download had long finished. I shook my head, pulling the card out and stuffing it into my jeans pocket. Quickly I pressed play on a random file to make sure it had transferred okay. It was a close up of Phil's face and I couldn't help but sigh happily. We'd been waving huge sheets of cardboard to create a windswept look so I'd missed the full impact of his acting. I sat down on the edge of the desk with a guilty glance over my shoulders at the three of them waiting for me. As I turned back to the screen a movement in the background of the shot caught my eye. I rewound quickly and played through again. A dark figure ran past, followed by two more at a desperate sprint. I zoomed in, curious. We hadn't seen these people pass so they must have gone straight into the forest.

I replayed and gasped in horror. The first figure was unmistakably Jake Mansford, running for his life with a expression of pure terror plastered across his face. Pursuing him was, as I'd guessed, Gabes. But instead of knuckles a tall, brutal looking skinhead was at his side. Judging by the tattoos and gaunt face this guy was a lot older than anyone in college. So where was Knuckles? And who was this?

It didn't take a genius to figure out that they'd chased Jake into the forest and beaten the absolute shit out of him, it was probably one of them I'd seen moving in the shadows. Bile rose in my throat as I suddenly realised that this was the second time I'd only just missed a brutal attack in that forest. And once again, Phil was even closer. Thank God no one was murdered this time. At least, I really fucking hoped not. Knuckles was mysteriously absent, and Jake had been crying – he'd taken a fair few beatings while I'd known him without a flinch. I pushed the thought out of my mind, running my hands through my hair.

I bit my lip.

Should I say anything? I'd already decided to only tell the police about Purple Shirt Guy if they asked, I couldn't handle having to give another statement in that claustrophobic room with the rattling air conditioner and faceless walls. And this business with Jake and Gabes was nothing to do with me.

Something hit the window with a crash and I jumped, nearly falling out of the chair.

I ran to the window to see PJ bending down to throw another handful of gravel and wrestled with the catch before flinging the window open.

"OI!" I yelled, with a grin.

"You're taking your time young man, hope you're not having a quick wank over my underwear draw!" Chris yelled back, cut short with a muffled 'ow' as I chucked a pillow at his head.

Phil punched him lightly on the shoulder before tilting his face back up to me. "What's taking you so long?"

"I couldn't find any clean cards so I was just moving the files over." I called down.

Chris straightened up rubbing his arm and opened his mouth to-

**BANG!**

A great flock of birds rose screaming from the trees with a clatter of beating wings. I froze, blood thundering through my veins. The forest was suddenly still, instantly silent. I looked back down at the gravel. PJ and Chris were running for the doors. A girl was screaming. Another running in slow motion. Phil remained as he was, stock still as if a statue; but instead of the woods or to the safety of the doors he was staring up at me, his expression unreadable.

I mouthed his name, incapable of words.

"Dan." He whispered, before crumpling silently to the ground.


	13. Chapter 13

"PHIL!" I screamed.

PJ and Chris spun round – eyes wide.

People were yelling. I could hear the pounding of running feet; faint and muffled as if coming from far away. All I could see were the backs of Chris and PJ's heads as they crouched over Phil's motionless figure.

A teacher came running, her heels clattering on the stones.

"WAS IT A GUNSHOT?!" She screamed. "IS HE HIT?!"

"No it's okay miss." PJ was saying.

I couldn't focus on his words, my head was spinning.

"He's just fainted."

_Fainted_

_Jesus Christ._

My head flooded with relief and I collapsed at the knees, burying my head in my arms.

"I fucking hate you Phil Lester." I whispered.

* * *

I could hear commotion out the window: the sounds of people simultaneously running towards and away from the forest. Soon, police sirens wailed in the distance.

It sounded like they were trying to cordon off the whole forest before sending in a search party. I didn't envy them. The trees were dark and sinister even when there weren't gunshots flying.

Voices wafted down the corridor and I pulled myself up off the floor to open the door. PJ and Chris were supporting Phil between them and I darted forwards to help them, whispering his name into his hair. As my lips brushed his earlobe, he stirred.

"Dan." He sighed.

"It's okay Phil, I'm here. It's okay." I tried to wrap my arms around him as we shuffled. "It's okay." I repeated helplessly.

We bundled him into bed and PJ went to grab a glass of water while I drew circles on Phil's hand with my finger. Chris was watching the action unfold out of the window.

"One of us should go find out what's going on." He murmured.

"I'll go. I need to tell them what I saw." I muttered, giving Phil's hand a quick squeeze and pecking him on the cheek. "They'll look after you. You'll be fine, I'll be back in five minutes I promise."

Phil nodded glumly, a thin sheen of sweat covered his skin and he was pale and trembling.

PJ looked up sharply at me. "What did you see?"

But I just shook my head and got up to go. "Don't you dare leave his side until I'm back." I said.

PJ nodded, pressing a wet flannel against Phil's forehead. "Of course."

* * *

Outside, turmoil reigned. The college was in a state of upheaval – teachers were running and yelling and trying to call order, some pushing students backwards while others pulled them forwards again to form a barrier around the trees.

I slipped through the jostling crowd towards the sea of hi-vi jackets and black caps, skipping in a quick circle to avoid my Law teacher and ending up face to face with Sergeant Donovan. His strained expression slid off his face as he recognised me, to be replaced with grim resignation.

"So Mr Howell. Fancy seeing you here. I'd be willing to take a guess that you have a statement to give; how convenient that you happened to be in the right place at the right time _yet again_. We knew it was going to happen of course, after the incident on Saturday, but maybe we should get you on the force - seeing as you seem to be far better at predicting the finer details. Or maybe you should go straight past the staff room and into a cosy little cell." He surveyed me shrewdly and I squirmed. I had no idea what he was talking about but a feeling of dread was running like ice down my spine. "Either way, if you'd like to follow me. Sir."

* * *

x

* * *

It was getting dark by the time I arrived back at the dorm block. I'd phoned my mum to tell her I wasn't coming home – the grilling from the policemen had left me drained completely and it took every ounce of energy I had left to pull myself up the stairs and into their room.

Phil seemed to be asleep, Chris was on his laptop and PJ perched on the window sill staring out into the night.

"That was way more than five minutes." He hissed at me as I walked in the door. "We've been going crazy, Phil thought-"

I looked over at the bed. Phil wasn't asleep at all; I could see his blue eyes wide and staring at me from under the covers.

"They kept me a while. They thought I knew more than I was saying. I have to go back tomorrow for a proper interrogation." I shuddered at the thought.

Phil let out a low moan, his eyes tortured. "You have nothing to do with this." He whispered. "They can't do that, you're not..." to my horror, thick tears were welling in the corners of his eyes.

I ran forwards, dropping to my knees by the side of the bed and reaching under the covers for his hand. "Phil. Phil it's okay, I know I'm innocent and they can't prove otherwise – it'll be unpleasant but I've just got to get through it. Don't worry about me."

Phil sobbed quietly. "Oh God, Dan. You don't understand, I- it doesn't matter now anyway. It's too late. Oh God." He buried his face in my shirt. I could feel the tears soaking slowly through the fabric as I wrapped my arms around him, and I turned to stare questioningly at PJ.

He shook his head, as mystified as me.

"Phil mate, maybe you should get some sleep. We'll talk about it in the morning, we'll probably have lessons cancelled or something if they find anything.

Phil shuddered visibly, but lay back down, turning to me. "Dan?" He asked pleadingly.

I nodded, slipping into bed beside him fully clothed and wrapping my arms securely around him. He laid his head into the warm nape of my neck, tickling with the flutter of his eyelashes as he closed his eyes. It took all my remaining energy not to spasm violently at the sensation, chucking us both onto the floor.

Chris and PJ talked quietly in the dim light of the desk lamp as Phil slept. Eventually, Chris closed his laptop and joined PJ on the windowsill – watching the tiny pinpricks of light moving about in the grounds below. PJ sat with his legs bent up on the ledge leaning against the wall, and Chris lay against him – his head on PJ's chest, his skinny body cradled between PJ's legs. PJ played with Chris's tussled, messy hair and the low murmur of their voices filled the night air with a calm melody.

I watched their silhouettes in the window, purple twilight streaming around them. I watched the way PJ twirled Chris's hair between his fingers. I watched the rise and fall of Chris's chest as he breathed in and out, perfectly in time with PJ's. I gazed at the glittering reflection of their eyes in the black glass and I wondered.

I wondered how it was possible to be homophobic. I wondered how it was possible to see past their blinding love to anything else. I wondered how it was possible not to love them both, and love their love for each other all the more.

"What do you think will happen, tomorrow, with Dan and Phil?" PJ asked softly.

"I don't know. I don't know what Dan saw or what either of them have to do with all this. I don't know what will happen to Dan, or what Phil will do if it's bad. But I do know one thing."

PJ nodded slowly. "Phil would be dead by now if it wasn't for Dan." His eyes were grave, his voice barely a whisper.

"Yeah." Chris sighed. "The only time I've ever seen him like that..."

"That day, on the bridge, after..." PJ trailed off, and Chris sought his hand in the darkness.

Phil stirred at my side as a hot tear splashed down from my face and landed on his cheek.

I kissed it away, shaking, and he settled down in slumber again on my arm.

It took all my self control not to squeeze him tight and never let him go. I wanted to cradle him and rock him back and forwards in my arm and tell him it was all okay. I didn't know what they were talking about. But it hurt so much.

He wasn't fine. He wasn't fine at all. But now I was here, and I was going to make it all okay.

* * *

PJ and Chris were still cuddling in the window and I was suddenly acutely aware of the way in which Chris was planting soft kisses up the inside of PJ's thigh. I focused very hard on being asleep, and eventually dozed off.

* * *

X

* * *

I woke from an uneasy sleep and for a moment I wasn't sure what had woken me. Then Phil thrashed furiously against my side with a cry. He was tossing and flailing, moaning softly. I tried to stroke his arm – sweaty and feverishly hot – but the ivory skin contracted out of my grasp. I was clinging to the headboard to keep myself on the bed, shushing and crooning in a desperate whisper. He let out a soft cry, high and pitiful, that struck me somewhere deep inside like a knife. I couldn't take it, I started trying to wake him – shaking his shoulders gently and calling his name.

"Nooo.." He moaned, "Please no, mum! I'm so sorry."

I was kissing his lips urgently in an effort to quiet him, to smother the wails of pain that shook my heart in my ribcage.

"It's not his fault, it's mine, please. Don't' hurt him. Don't hurt my Dan. I'm the one you should hurt. It's all my fault. Oh God. No. Don't tell them. They can't know. Please save them." His voice had sunk to a hoarse whisper now, and he was frozen rigid on the bed trembling violently.

I continued my tirade of helpless murmurs, no more successful at soothing him than my caress.

"They're dead. They're both dead. His eyes. Oh God his eyes. You can tell by the eyes. Why am I not dead. Why is he dead. It wasn't his fault. It's my fault. It's all my fault. Mum, Dad, Dan, Jamie. I'm so sorry. Jamie. Dan. Please don't leave me Dan. Please. Help me."

"It's okay, I'm here, I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere, it's okay I'll help you. I've got you it's okay." I whispered faintly, clinging onto him. I wanted to cover him, wrap myself around him, keep him safe. But I wasn't big enough. I wasn't strong enough. I wasn't good enough.

Slowly, his cries subsided into whimpers, his whimpers into quiet weeping. I held him close, but it wasn't close enough. I dabbed gently at his eyes with my shirt, kissing away the cold traces of tears that ran down his cheek as if I could kiss away the demons that tortured him too.

Eventually, he lay quiet. Paler, defeated. He looked drained and gaunt, limp and lifeless if not for the slight rise and fall of his chest.

I turned my head to the other beds, suddenly remembering we weren't alone. Chris's bed was empty, instead he lay and a deep and undisturbed slumber across PJ's bare chest. I shook my head disbelievingly. How had they not heard all that?

But then again, judging by the clothes scattered across the floor, I'd slept through quite a lot too.

I turned back to Phil with a sigh. There was so much I didn't know about him. I'd thought it would be so easy, so perfect. I thought you just got a boyfriend and then your life was suddenly great and happy and all your problems were solved. Turns out it just presents a whole lot more, and suddenly you've got someone else's problems too, which for some stupid reason you care about more even than your own.

I trailed my fingers gently across Phil's forehead. I wondered what monsters capered behind the cage of bone.

* * *

I looked at PJ and Chris. They looked like a couple from a movie. They were peaceful, they slept with smiles on their faces. And then I looked down at Phil. Pale and clammy, still shivering every now and then. And then there was me. The ballerina. We'd only got together because I'd had a total breakdown. I wouldn't be here at all if it wasn't for my incapability to deal with bullies and my pathetic, needy helplessness.

It seemed we just took turns in comforting each other. In trying to make it a little bit more okay in our fucked up lives.

Maybe that was us. Maybe that was all we'd ever be.

Not everyone gets their happily ever after.

* * *

x

x

x

* * *

**_hehehe sorry about that everyone ;) as always every review means so much so _****please****_ just scribble a few characters, it only takes a second but it makes my day literally :3_**


	14. Chapter 14

We woke late and sleepy to the news that classes were not cancelled, and lessons started in ten minutes. I had the morning off so watched from the bed as they squeezed into three pairs of skinny jeans and fought over the bathroom. I kept my eyes on Phil's strained, pallid face. He looked tired. I knew why, but I thought it probably wasn't a good idea to bring it up right now. He was nibbling his lip and suddenly I realised I was running my fingers through my hair. _Look at the pair of us._ I let out a hollow laugh and Chris turned questioningly to me but I shook my head.

I watched as Phil turned to the door, clearly psyching himself up to go out and face the world. He looked like he was about to cry.

I jumped up, spinning him round and fixing his mouth in mine. This kiss was different to the soft pecks at night or the frantic, hungry kisses in the barn. This one was long and slow and steady. I could feel him relaxing underneath me and I only broke away when Chris cleared his throat behind us.

"Kissing's great don't get me wrong, but media started five minutes ago and now we're all late."

I grabbed Phil again before he left and pulled him into a tight hug. He looked happier, calmer, turning back to the door with a look of determination on his face rather than apprehension.

I watched him go with an ache in my stomach.

* * *

Eventually I turned away to face a morning alone. One thing was certain: I wasn't going to waste it. I was restarting my investigation with vengeance.

I pulled out my notebook and found a page empty of half-hearted notes and doodles. Sitting cross legged on Phil's bed, I decided to make a list of stuff.

Thursday 12th: Purple shirt guy was murdered. Brown hair, black jeans.

Sunday 15th: his body was discovered in a building site. (I'm no forensic but I added to my expert analysis): beaten up before death, possibly died from head injury. Phil freaked out (why? Did he know him?)

This data left three minor problems.

Where did the body go for three days

Who was Purple Shirt Guy

Who killed him

I considered for a moment. If he died from head injuries then maybe Murderer hadn't meant to kill him - just batter him. That would explain the less than perfect body disposal tactics, but not the three day disappearance.

I shook my head and moved on.

Friday 20th: Found paper in the forest: 30 Yao 22/04_ (Name? Code? Date?)(poss unrelated)_

I started trying to figure out where Knuckles, Jake and Gabes fitted into the picture. They hadn't even looked twice at me since Tuesday when they'd tried to attack me. That was weird. I didn't think they'd give up that easily.

Maybe I should make a list of weird things too. Actually, I thought, my list of 'evidence' was so small I might as well add in whatever came to mind.

An idea occurred to me. With a little bit of googling, I found the local police website, and then the column of reported incidents. Turns out Chris was right: they did have to announce discovered bodies after a certain time no matter how much they didn't want certain people to see them. They'd put it in small print at the very bottom of the page, but it hadn't worked.

Wednesday 25th: Knuckles, Gabes and Jake find out that PS guy has been discovered. Stop coming to college, stop trying to kill me.

Friday 27th: Jake is beaten up by Gabes and skinhead. A shot is fired in the forest after Jake leaves. Gabes, Knuckles and skinhead not seen since.

I breathed out slowly, and then carefully shaded in another bullet point

Friday 27th: Phil dreams due to above. Possibly he knows something.

That was an understatement. From the words he was crying last night he knew more than something. I pushed the thoughts forcefully out of my head, running my fingers through my hair. There had been plenty of horrible thoughts like that going through my mind. But Phil was my boyfriend, and he was beautiful. And PJ would trust him with his life, so why shouldn't I?

Phil didn't murder anyone. Shut up head.

Time for research.

I started off by looking up Yao again. I'd been right, it was Chinese - in particular the middle guy from the three soldiers in 'Mulan'. I giggled despite myself, slightly embarrassed that I remembered from year four. I'd had to pretend not to like it at the time - I mean it _was_ a Disney movie. Disney movies are for girls. I shook my head, stuffing cereal in my mouth and opening facebook; and then every social media site I could find. Nothing.

I tried directories and work profiles, and even the family tree sites. By the end of the hour I was moody and irritable. I ran my fingers angrily through my hair. I reread the tiny characters over and over, looking for hidden meaning. The date didn't seem significant; last Sunday, possibly at '30' o'clock or something. But if the date had yet to come, why would PS guy throw away the scrap of paper? It was folded up so small I doubted it could have fallen out of a pocket.

I brushed my hair out of my eyes.

The digital display on the computer read 11:50. I still had a couple of hours before college, I needed to relax and do some proper digging. I yanked the curtains shut. The rattle they made as they clattered across the plastic rung was somehow soothing and I put my iPod up as loud as I dared. Still in my pyjamas I locked the door and pushed the beds to the side of the room. The space was small, but the music was loud. I closed my eyes. I cut the cord.

The string that had been holding me tight and tense released, the stray end flying away with the wind.

I danced, and I let go of the human.

* * *

After a couple of near misses with inanimate objects, I retreated to the middle of the room and spun on the spot. Slowly at first, getting faster and faster as I squeezed my eyes tighter and tighter shut and the music increased in tempo. Something as childish and simple as spinning until I was dizzy was strangely exhilarating, the music pumping through my veins and urging me on, faster and faster and faster...

I collapsed on the bed with a groan, burying my head in the pillows as it span wildly. I rolled over to watch the ceiling pitch and heave above me. A huge grin had spread across my face at some point, all my anxiety forgotten. Better. Definitely better. I made a point to spin with loud music more often. I live life on the _edge_.

Research. Okay. Go.

I went back onto the police website. By now I knew my way around and it didn't take me long to bring up the report on PS guy. Huh, that was new. Apparently he was a 28 year old Caucasian male and of medium build. Well there goes theory B. Purple Shirt guy couldn't be Jakob, there's no way PJ and Chris would have thought Phil was going out with a 28 year old at 15. In all honesty I didn't really thing it was him, Phil knew him well (whoever he was) but hadn't shed a single tear over him since Sunday. I had to quietly consider the possibilities. Jakob and Phil were in the woods the day it had happened. Phil was supposedly telling Jakob he 'never wanted to see him again', so maybe Jakob had got angry, walked off into the woods and beat the crap of a random 28 year old jogging (to see Yao?), accidentally killed him, panicked, left the body and ran. And then he'd gone back three days later to move the body as it surely had finger prints all over it. That was certainly plausible. I congratulated myself with a mars bar. One thing was certain though, to prove this theory I had to find out more about Jakob.

Who was he? Why was Phil hanging around a stranger anyway? The casual fuck buddy was the only explanation I could think of. It was conceivable, Phil's boyfriend killed himself, Phil was emotional and he didn't have any friends at college so he found a supplement. No strings attached. The thought sent a shiver down my spine. It was not a nice thought. I couldn't imagine Phil with this stranger. This stranger who possibly beat a grown adult to death in the woods had held my Phil in his arms. Made love to him in the woods, even. When they were 15. Fuck.

It was a harsh reminder of just how young and bloody innocent I was. Phil had probably had sex thousands of times before. I'd probably been so awful. He probably regretted ditching his experienced, hardened state school guy now.

I felt sick.

It would also explain the dream. If Phil had 'broken up' with this guy and caused the death of a stranger, it was pretty realistic that he'd be crying _it's all my fault _in the dead of night. The more I thought about it, the more it seemed to all fit together. I wanted to go to the police, to tell them it was Jakob, to tell them it was him - to make them take him away.

Guilt swelled in my stomach. This guy meant something to Phil. He had been the one to look after Phil when he'd lost his first and only. _It shouldn't have been him. _He was probably a violent, hot tempered maniac and Phil had gone to him when he was broken. I wanted to vomit.

What if Phil got too bored of my inadequacy in bed? What if he needed some real sex so scooted off to the woods while I was at home? _Maybe he already had_. Suddenly, all I could imagine was this faceless stranger rotting in a prison cell for the rest of eternity.

There were a couple of things that didn't fit, though. What did Phil mean by 'look at the eyes'? And where did Gabes, Jake and Skinhead come into the picture? Or maybe they didn't, maybe they had their own shit going on which just happened to coincide.

The police didn't think so, though.

I ran my fingers through my hair. I wasn't abandoning my theory just yet. There had to be a logical explanation. Maybe PS guy was a friend of Gabes and Skinhead. Maybe they thought Jake had done it. Maybe Skinhead was Yao even.

I ran my fingers through my hair. It was sticking up in all directions, completely static. Who had been shot? Why would they think Jake was involved? Where was Gabes? This wasn't getting any easier. It was based too much on assumptions.

I ran my fingers through my hair and finally an idea dawned on me, it was sketchy at best but I decided to write it down anyway.

**Theory A**

Jakob killed PS guy

Skinhead Yao was on his way to meet PS guy, PS guy never showed.

Jake was supposed to give PS guy the note, Yao assumed he'd forgotten and beat him up. Yao and Gabes walked a bit further into the woods because they were angry.

Came across Jakob – possibly cleaning up the murder site some more (the purple shirt had huge chunks ripped out of it – maybe they caught him with scraps of purple?)

Yao shot Jakob

Phil knew Jacob was going in that day, guessed what happened, fainted. Nightmare – two people dead because of him. "All my fault, I'm so sorry" (What about the eyes though?)

I breathed out slowly, running my hands one last time through my hair, before closing the notebook with a snap. I had to go to the police this afternoon. I would tell them what I knew, but there was no way in Hell I was bringing Phil into this. He'd had enough trauma for a fucking lifetime.

* * *

x

x

x

* * *

_**this is a pretty shitty chapter but i'm going away for 10 days and have been trying to sort it so you won't be left with nothing :c so yeah this was written quickly and proofread in 5 minutes so sorry**_


	15. Chapter 15

Sergeant Donovan surveyed me over heavy glasses.

"You really don't have a clue what's going on, do you."

I stared blankly back at him. "Sorry?"

I'd told him the whole story (carefully avoiding any mention of Phil) squirming uncomfortably in my seat under his silent, stony glare.

He shook his head slowly. "The name of your 'Purple Shirt Guy' is Jakob Beier. I don't think he beat himself to death now, did he. You can go. You're obviously not involved in this – 'we got the wrong guy', if you like. Apologies for hauling you back in here – there's a few factors we're missing and we thought you might be one of them. End of interview. Time: 15:25."

I walked home in speculative silence. Phil had been with a 28 year old. Oh my God. How had PJ and Chris not said anything?! How had they just let _that _happen without batting an eyelid?

And why wasn't Phil mourning.

Maybe he had been telling the truth, maybe they were never like that. Either way, Phil reportedly spent a lot of tie with this guy, willingly and happily. Why. Wasn't. He. Upset.

I ran my fingers through my hair.

I would talk to Chris and PJ tomorrow. They were somehow blissfully uncaring and uninvolved, but I couldn't handle not knowing. Phil was my boyfriend. Jake, Gabes and Knuckles still owed me a beating.

And I wanted to know.

* * *

X

* * *

Phil smiled at me over the lip of his coffee mug. Our legs were tangled under the table, my foot gently rubbing his calf. I smiled back. It was so easy to forget everything in these moments. Just Phil and I, getting away from it all – albeit a little less extreme this time.

The rain pounded against the window panes but neither of us minded. Somehow I didn't think we'd be taking a trip back into the forest any time soon. The warm smell of roasting coffee and the light, cosy chatter of a hundred students put me at ease as each sip of mocha heated my stomach. We talked quietly, just enjoying each other's company. It was hard to imagine someone running through those woods with a gun only the day before yesterday.

"Editing's going pretty well, it's slow and we've deleted like 90% of the footage but it's always like that."

I wondered if he'd seen Jake, Gabes and Skinhead in the back of the shot yet. I didn't say anything.

"Your dance bit looks so cool! It's really intense, we all spent ages on it because it looked so amazing. And don't worry – you can't recognise you."

I wanted to ask him about the dream and about Jakob and about the gunshot in the woods; but there was no way I was ruining this moment. More than anything, I wanted Phil to be happy – all the time. Right now, it seemed like every minute of happiness should be savoured as something rare and precious. I sighed, quickly wiping the strain from my face and replacing it with a grin. There was no way I was going to cut this one any shorter than it had to be.

"Ooooh when can I see it?" I asked, the warmth from the mug seeping into my cold fingers.

"I'll show you now if you want! Quickly, before your lesson!" He smiled like a little kid, his eyes alight.

"Alright," I laughed, "let me finish my mocha first!"

He poked his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, taking another sip of coffee. "Fine. I've probably watched it over and over way too many times as it is."

I raised my eyebrows, and he grinned guiltily back at me.

"I really like watching you dance." He said shyly.

I blushed. "Well maybe I'll dance for you in person some time." My words coming out in a rush and making me cringe.

"I'd like that. A lot." He said quietly. "It's like – I don't know. It feels amazing, just watching you. Like nothing else matters. Like the world is so meaningless and unimportant and everything you've done that day just seems so pointless. It's hard to explain."

I stared at him, my eyes wide. "That's kind of what it feels like to dance." I murmured. "I didn't realise it was the same for people watching, at least a little bit."

Phil nodded his head emphatically. "It really is. It's incredible. I mean, I understand why you don't want people to know. But personally I think it's a bit selfish- they're missing out on so much." He grinned at me, poking me under the table with his foot.

I rolled my eyes, leaning forwards slightly to wipe the foam moustache off his upper lip. He flicked out his tongue and licked my finger.

"Ew! You're such a child." I chastised.

He squeezed his eyes shut and waggled his tongue.

I laughed.

He laughed.

We were happy.

* * *

x

x

x

x

* * *

**_Okay so you're about get three chapters in as many days - i'm really spoiling you now :P (that's why this one is just a lil one sorry!) Basically i'm going away for a week and a bit on holiday and i didn't want to leave you with nothing :c however that does mean they're gonna be a little rushed and only proofread once so don't expect any literary genius! It would make me the happiest person in the world if i came back to a bunch of reviews *cough cough* and as always thank you for reading and sticking with my rubbish ramblings XX_**


	16. Chapter 16

I was on the computer again in Phil's room, scrolling through Jakob Beier's facebook profile with a frown. There was no mistake; this was the guy from the bunker. It was a little disconcerting seeing him alive and happy and smiling for photos. Seeing his eyes wide and sparkling not milky white. They were brown and welcoming, not dissimilar to my own. I grimaced.

There weren't any pictures of him and Phil, they weren't even friends. His timeline was too full of RIP messages to find any recent activity but he was still 'in a relationship' with a tall blonde girl. There were plenty of pictures of them together, but Phil hadn't known about her (he'd said 'probably has a girlfriend', but if he'd known this guy well then surely he would have just said 'he has a girlfriend'?). I tugged my fingers through my hair. This whole mess wasn't getting any clearer.

Thanks to privacy settings I couldn't see many of his photos but that didn't stop me from looking for Yao/Skinhead. I was sprawled out on the bed with the laptop when Phil came through the door with a yawn. I jumped, frantically trying to close the tabs and tilting the laptop away from him before forcing a smile on to my face and a cheery 'Hey!'

"Hey gorgeous." Phil grinned, dropping down onto the bed next to me and slinging his bag on the floor.

"How was media?" I asked, still desperately clicking the 'X' button – the laptop had managed to stubbornly freeze on one of Jakob's profile pictures, popping up error messages with a sardonic 'Oh snap!'.

"So so," Phil mused, scratching his head. "What've you been up to?"

"Oh you know the usual, working, lazing; pining away without my lover." I winked.

Phil's chuckle was like soft bells, it filled the room and made the walls seem closer and warmer.

"Oh of course. You can cuddle my Totoro pushy when I'm gone if you like." He giggled.

"Thank you, I'll need it." I grinned.

Everything else slipped away when I heard his voice. The webpage had finally closed and we talked about nothing, making each other laugh and gently teasing as the sun streamed in through the window against my back. I could forget it all in those sparkling, cerulean eyes.

* * *

"Did you really just use the word 'verbiage' in a conversation?" Phil smirked.

"Shut up!" I laughed, chucking a pillow at his head. "It's a cool word. I can't help being more intelligent than you."

Phil tried to throw the pillow back but I blocked it with an elbow, unwittingly bouncing it back towards his open arms. He jumped up, raising the soft, white lump above his head in one swift movement before I could react and bundled into me – knocking the laptop onto the floor. I rolled him over, crashing us both into the wall, but instead of fighting me Phil just wrapped his arms around my waist and buried his face in my stomach. I laughed, wistfully letting the pillow drop as I stroked his back. Part of his shirt had risen up and I could see goosebumps forming where my fingers trailed. Fascinated, I pulled the fabric up around his shoulders and started drawing patterns on his pale skin. He shuddered slightly, wriggling about to make my fingers hit the best spots and I laughed. I remembered my mum doing the same to me when I was little – I'd always be asking her to 'tickle my back!' It used to calm me down if I got to hyperactive or annoying, and it was certainly having the same effect on Phil: he was completely limp on my lap.

I trailed my fingers in great arcs and small circles, spreading out from his spine and up over the smooth crescents of his shoulders. His back was a mass of goosebumps now so I reached out along the lengths of his arms and up to the base of his head. He arched his neck at my touch, pressing his face further into my stomach and I bent over him to press a light kiss against his shoulder blades.

With my face on his back and his in my stomach, his arms started moving too. I shivered as his fingertips brushed against bare skin, pushing at my shirt. I lifted my head slightly so I could trace the hollow of his back and the subtle curves. I followed the lines of muscle, finding a mole I'd never seen before and circling it with my index finger.

He shifted underneath me, probably suffocating slightly in my shirt and I straightened up with a smile. He rolled over to face me, pink from the heat of my stomach, and stared beseechingly up at me – tugging the front of his shirt up too.

"Tickle my tummy now, please?"

I couldn't help it. I laughed.

But of course, I obliged. Any excuse to explore more of his soft, almost iridescent-white skin.

His stomach was more ticklish and he squirmed under my touch, but he wouldn't let me stop: 'It's a nice tickle!' His muscles were only very lightly defined but my fingers could feel each subtle ridge. I moved back up to his chest, following the dip of his pecks and then the smooth pink circles of his nipples – making him laugh and swat my hand away. I grinned fondly down at him and he smiled back up at me with wide, trusting eyes. He looked so innocent. I suddenly felt so guilty for all my dark suspicions, his eyes were like those of a baby animal when you take it into your arms. I arched my back once more to kiss him.

* * *

And that was how PJ and Chris found us ten minutes later; Phil laying on his back with his head in my lap while I bent over, my hands cradling his face, fixing his lips in an upside-down kiss that seemed to – not so much set the world on fire, but warm it to the core with a smouldering, burning heat.

They chuckled out their 'hello's and Phil and I tried to murmur our replies at the same time with our lips still pressed together, resulting in another soft giggle. Reluctantly, I pulled away. My neck was getting a crick in it and my back was stiff from curving over. I shuffled down on the bed to lay beside Phil, taking my turn to nuzzle my face into his neck. He rested a gentle arm around my shoulders so as to tangle his fingers in my hair.

I could hear Chris and PJ talking in the background, but I didn't pay much attention; instead mumbling quietly into Phil's neck.

My phone rang and I groaned.

"Hey Peej, can you get that for me? I'm too comfy to move." I murmured without looking up.

"Yeah sure, where is it?"

"On the pillow."

"Seriously Dan."

I smirked into Phil's neck and suddenly cold metal was pressing against my cheek.

"Do you need me to hold it against your ear as well or can you do that?" PJ muttered sarcastically.

I grinned as I took the phone and answered.

"Hello?"

"..."

"Heeello?"

The line went dead.

"That's weird." I muttered, setting the phone down on the bed with a frown.

"Who was it?" Phil asked.

"I don't know," I tapped a couple of buttons. "they didn't say anything, just heavy breathing. And the number's blocked."

PJ looked sharply over at me from the desk. "I thought people only did that in the movies."

"Did what?" I asked.

"Dead calls, whatever you want to call them. They're supposed to be threatening."

I shivered. "Do you mean, it was probably..."

"Maybe." PJ murmured, not meeting my eye. "Or it could just have been a wrong number. Either way, there's nothing they can do to you – they just want to scare you."

"Well it's working." I sighed.

Phil pulled me into a hug. "Hey. Don't worry about it. No one is getting past me."

I snickered. "Sure. You're so hard and violent."

"Well he's certainly hard but I'm not so sure about the violent part..." Chris quipped up from the carpet.

Phil blushed furiously and rolled over to cover himself, and my eyes opened wide with comprehension as I realised what Chris meant. Woah. I sniggered and Phil punched me, burying his face ashamedly into my back.

"Sorry mate," Chris laughed. "It _was_ pretty noticeable. I wish PJ's was that big."

"OI!"

The thump as PJ launched himself into Chris reverberated the springs on our bed but I ignored them, turning instead to Phil with a grin. He wouldn't meet my eye, still covering his shining face.

"I'd help you out, only you've got classics in five minutes." I lifted Phil's chin with a smirk.

"It's okay. I'll be fine, just change the subject. And maybe stop cuddling me."

I let go with a sigh, putting a little space between us on the bed.

"Well what do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know. You like the killers a lot. Human is your ring tone, your alarm, your dance song... aren't you sick of it by now?"

"No, not really," I mused. "It's always been my favourite song. I don't know, I guess I just like the message. Because you know, I'm a dancer. When I first heard it... I guess it made a lot of things make sense. It's like saying that there is more to us than just humans. We're dancers, we're beautiful. We're artists. It's about seeing the beautiful in the world, and realising it – too much is ignored because we think we're just humans so we don't pay attention, but everything is a dance. We don't just exist, we perform. Everything we do. It's like Shakespeare said, all the world's a stage."

Phil considered for a moment. "I like that. And it's good to have a favourite song that means a lot to you. But that's not what I think of when I hear it."

"What do you mean?" I asked, surprised.

"Later." Phil said. "I've really got to go." He jumped up, grabbing his bag and saying a quick farewell to Chris and PJ (who had at some point stopped fighting and started building a duvet fort instead) before darting out the door.

I rolled over to face the ceiling, trying to figure out what Phil had meant. I stuck my headphones in and put it on repeat, listening more carefully to the lyrics. I frowned. The message seemed to be slightly more macabre than I'd first thought, and it had been my favourite song for five years. I shook my head. Without Phil, all my worries were creeping back into bed with me. I ran my fingers through my hair. I'd been keeping this to myself for too long. I needed answers.

Quickly I fished the scrap of paper I'd been carrying with me all week out from my pocket and swung my legs off the bed. Muffled giggling was coming from the duvet fort and I bit my lip, not sure I wanted to disturb them. I approached with caution, catching one corner of the duvet with my fingers.

"Knock knock. Can I come in?"

More muffled laughter and some shuffling that shook the structure precariously. Chris's head emerged from the white fabric with a grin.

"Come right in good sir, we were just discussing the size of PJ's penis."

I winced.

PJ's face joined Chris's with a grin. "We've established that it's _almost_ as big as Philip's, and Chris needs to stop moaning as his is easily the smallest in this room."

I laughed with a groan.

"Oi." Chris grumbled. "It's not my fault I'm living in a roomful of giants and their monster cocks."

My groan deepened. "Oh God. I'm not sure I want to come in anymore. Maybe I'll go back over there and listen to Bach for a while."

PJ laughed, grabbing the top of Chris's head and shoving him back under the duvets. "It's okay," He chuckled, "We've both put our cocks away now. It is safe to enter."

Somewhat apprehensively, I clambered in through the small opening. Chris's laptop was providing the only light and the air was warm and close, but not uncomfortably so.

"I just wondered if you knew what this meant. I found it outside and was curious." I pulled out the scrap of paper and held it near the screen so they could read it.

"Yao?" PJ said, surprised. "That's cocaine isn't it?"

"What?" I blinked. Well that wasn't what I was expecting. At all.

"You clearly haven't been playing enough video games." PJ chuckled. "It looks like someone's been doing a coke deal on school grounds. Tut tut. The 30 must be the cost, that's about average for a gram."

"Are you sure it's not the amount?" Chris frowned, "They wouldn't need to write down the cost as it's always the same."

"No way." PJ shook his head. "No one would be wandering around anywhere let alone a college with 30g of coke. That's like a thousand pounds at least."

I scratched my head. Clearly this wasn't anything to do with Jakob or Phil or Gabes or any of them. It was just a coincidence, there were plenty of druggies in this college and apparently the forest was more popular than I'd thought. It seemed like half the college carried out their furtive activities in there. I sighed.

"Oh well, thanks. The more you know hey. This information may come in useful one day if I don't make it as a lawyer." I grinned.

PJ laughed, trying to disentangle himself from Chris's arms as he clung to PJ's waist with a happy smile.

"Hey sexy PJ. Love you sexy PJ. I'm never letting you go sexy PJ. Sexy PJ with the massive cock is staying in here with me forever."

I grinned at PJ's exasperated yet fond expression and quietly took my leave, slipping out into the welcome sunlight and fresh air. Far from helping, PJ's knowledge had left me even more clueless. The only scrap of hard evidence I had was completely useless, and I was no closer to the truth. I sighed, letting it flutter out of my fingers and into the bin.

* * *

x

x

x

* * *

**_Three chapters in as many days - i'm really spoiling you now :P Basically i'm going away for a week and a bit on holiday and i didn't want to leave you with nothing :c however that does mean they're gonna be a little rushed and only proofread once so don't expect any literary genius! It would make me the happiest person in the world if i came back to a bunch of reviews *cough cough* and as always thank you for reading and sticking with my rubbish ramblings XX_**


	17. Chapter 17

_Peeling plaster fell around my shoulders and I spurred my legs on, pushing faster and faster through darkened corridors. I rounded a corner and skid out of control, nearly tumbling head first down a flight of steep concrete steps and into the blackened basement. Blood pounded in my head. The sound of their running feet pushed me forwards again, no time to recover from my scare. Their calls and taunts followed me through the black house. Every step they were gaining on me, I tried to run faster but it seemed as if I was slowing down. They were almost behind me and I slammed into a broken, ruined bathroom; wrenching the door behind me and gasping for breath. As I turned, the quiet splash of thick liquid hitting tiles hit my ears. I wretched. Blood was smeared over the mirror, forming distorted, dripping letters. I tried to make them out, my stomach heaving. Detcidda? Decidida? Detcidida? Knuckles was pounding on the door and yelling but his cries faded into the hiss of steam as the shower poured red. My eyes were fixed on the bathtub. A hand, wrinkled and bloated by the water and pale grey in colour was reaching slowly over the side – halting and convulsing. The flesh was rotten. Green and rancid, with great black welts that flaked and fell as it moved._

_I tried to open the door. Knuckles and Jake and Gabes were nothing compared to this, but now they were holding it against me and laughing. 'Ballerina Daniel!' they taunted. 'Dancer Dan is going to die! Die Dancer Dan!' I screamed, rattling the door handle with all my might, throwing my weight against the stubborn wood again and again and again. _

_The creature in the tub was pulling itself up. I could see the top of a head, a mop of dark hair mottled and caked with black blood and rot and chunks of flesh – bone flashing white beneath wiry hair. I blanched and cried, my head spinning, my mouth shrieking._

_Slowly, it turned its neck. Not towards me, but towards the tiled wall. And still it kept turning, all the way round with a sickening crack. I slipped down to the floor against the door. I already knew what I was going to see._

_I tried to scream but I was mute. Silent tears were streaming down my face and I pushed again, pain flaring in my muscles. Jakob's eyes stared back at me, dead and milky white. As I watched, he started to lift himself out of the bath._

* * *

xx

* * *

I woke with a cry, sweating and shaking, bolt upright in bed. I turned my head wildly then groaned as warmth floated down on my clammy skin. My duvet felt sticky around my shoulders and I wiped the tears angrily from my face before giving up and collapsing back down to muffle my sobs in the pillow.

My bed was lonely, the room silent and empty. Suddenly I missed Phil with an ache that had me doubled over at the gut. I needed his arms around me, holding me, telling me it was all okay. That it was just a dream. I even missed PJ's snores and Chris's quiet snuffling; and the orange glow of the lamps outside the window. Here in my bedroom there was no one I could call for help.

More than ever now I wanted to move into the boarding house with PJ and Chris and Phil. They had each other, there would always be someone to look after them. Together, they were invincible.

And I was all on my own.

* * *

x

* * *

Rain pattered blearily against the grey concrete of the college. It had been raining all night and all day, as could only be expected for England. I sighed, pulling a folder out of my bag as I climbed down from the bus. I sprinted towards the double doors, English notes over my head, cold wind driving the rain into my face despite my crude shelter. The bus had been late - rain always meant more passengers and more stops - so I walked briskly through the corridors trying to shake the water from my hair. A girl three years below caught sight of me and snorted into her scarf, trying to cover high pitched giggles. I frowned. Did I really look that awful? As the group of people I was walking behind disappeared into a classroom, the corridor cleared and I could see Knuckles ahead of me – Grey tracksuit covering every inch of pale skin. My blood ran cold and I shrank into the walls. I knew he couldn't hurt me here, but the reaction was automatic. He made a beeline towards me, a twisted grin on his face. I slowed to a halt and started backing up, glancing desperately over my shoulder.

"It's okay faggot." He growled, his voice like gravel. "I'm not going to beat you. Not today, anyways. Actually I've just been helping you out. Have you seen the posters yet? My finest work, I think." He flashed me a toothy grin that was everything but friendly, his breath rancid, before lumbering past me and out of the building with a laugh.

A shiver ran down my spine. Screw my lesson, I had to find out what he was talking about. Somehow I didn't think it could be good. Dread ran down my spine as I sprinted down the corridor, eyes scanning every wall and door.

It caught my eye immediately. How could I miss it? It was neon pink.

It took all my strength not to sink to my knees right there in the middle of the corridor.

Tacked onto the wall was a grainy photo of me in the dance studio mid pirouette, a lurid pink tutu crudely photoshopped around my waist. Underneath the caption read: _Dancer Dan for hire! Contact my boyfriend Phil Lester for prices. Sexual services cost extra, price to be agreed._

The privacy of their bedroom and the security of Phil's arms all seemed useless now. Knuckles would have been thorough. By now, the whole college would know.

I turned slowly away from the wall, only to be hit in the head by a lump of wet chewing gum. Laughter erupted from the mob of 14 year old boys as they passed, and another stuck a foot out to trip me. Tears were stinging my eyes already. I had to get out of here before I broke down sobbing. I turned on my heel, trying not to run and keeping my head down so no one would see my face as I fought back choking sobs. Catcalls and wolf whistles followed me down the corridor, along with cries of 'Where's your boyfriend?' and 'Do some ballet!' A tear splashed town on to my cheek.

I was just about to reach the front door and freedom when someone sprinted out of a corridor to my left and almost barged straight in to me. It took me a second to recognize Phil, a great, puffy purple-black eye covering most of the right side of his face. His hair was drenched with what looked suspiciously like hot coffee and he was clutching his broken bag in his arms, the word 'Queer' blazoned across the split seems in black marker. I blanched, pulling him into my arms with a sob. Someone behind me whooped.

"I've been hiding in my room all morning since I saw." He muttered. "I only came out to try and find you before anyone else did, but they found me first. Come on. I need a shower, and then we're getting out of here."

We jogged out on to the asphalt in silence, the college almost deserted now due to lessons.

Almost.

As we rounded the corner, Knuckles and Gabes looked up from their cigarettes. Expressions of boredom turned to glee.

I might have been able to outrun them, but as soon as I heard Phil go down behind me I slowed and turned to face my fate. There was no way I was going down without a fight.

* * *

x

* * *

Afterwards, we showered together. There was nothing romantic about it. I washed the coffee and blood from Phil's hair while he pulled chewing gum methodically from mine. We smeared each other's cuts with antiseptic and bandaged them up as best we could. Yet again, Phil took the worst of the beating. His ribs were bruised and bloodied but thankfully not broken; and he'd been kicked so hard in the gut that he was peeing blood.

My head was unscathed but blood ran down my thigh from where a savage kick with a metal toed boot had ripped the skin. Jake had put his cigarette out with my left cheek before sauntering off, and I had a burn that was already blistering and throbbing.

We tried to cuddle, but it was too painful so instead we sat.

* * *

x

* * *

"I don't want to stay here any longer." Phil said.

"No," I agreed, "but I don't want to go anywhere that fucking forest ever again."

Phil shook his head mournfully. "I guess not. The beach is too far away and town is too crowded. Will you take me somewhere?"

I furrowed my eyebrows. "I don't have any special places though."

"How about your house then?"

I considered for a moment and then sighed. Anywhere was better than here. "Okay, I guess. It's not very special either though."

"It is if you live there." He tried to force a smile on to his lips, but neither of us believed it.

* * *

x

* * *

The bus journey was silent, the walk through town fluctuated only by a brief moan of pain as a woman swung her heavy bag into Phil's bruised ribs as she pushed past.

As we turned off the main road and on to my driveway the silence intensified, so I decided to break it.

"My parents won't be home till seven as they're at work."

Phil just nodded, and I welcomed the metallic jangle as I turned the key in the lock.

The house was dark but homely. Photographs and children's drawings adorned every wall and mantelpiece, and as I flicked on a light our cat looked up from the sofa with yellow eyes. I cringed internally. I'd planned to cover some of the more embarrassing pictures before bringing any friends home.

"Your house smells nice." Phil murmured, and I was glad to hear him speak.

"What does it smell like? I can't smell it."

"That's because you live here." His smile was a little more felt this time, "I guess it just smells of you."

I didn't know how to respond so I just led him into the kitchen and clattered around the cupboards looking for drinks. When I turned round, Phil was absently minding stroking Percy the cat – curled up and purring in his lap.

I was so surprised I nearly dropped the glasses.

"What the hell. Percy hates literally _everyone_ except mum."

Phil smiled. Finally genuine and almost happy. "All animals like me. That's another thing I have in common with your mum."

"What's the first thing?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

"We both love you." He said simply.

I blinked. Every time he said it, it always came out of the blue and I was always left speechless. I couldn't say 'I love you too' because he hadn't said 'I love you'. And that was how these things worked, wasn't it? It would sound _weird._ So I just gaped for a moment before turning swiftly back to the kettle.

"Do you want tea or coffee or...?"

"Tea would be good, thanks."

I made up for my social incompetence by whispering 'love you' as I pecked him on the cheek and handed him the steaming mug. I think it worked, because this smile was 100%.

* * *

x

* * *

My feet pounded on the floorboards as I ran up the stairs two at a time to get to my room before Phil, kicking clothes and underwear under the bed in a desperate attempt to at least suggest a vague sense of hygiene. Phil caught on to me though, slipping in a second later with a low chuckle.

"I've seen you naked Howell, do you really think a pair of boxers are going to get rid of me?"

I tried to loop my arms around his waist without thinking, pulling away sharply as he winced in pain. My face fell and he kissed me gently.

"Hey. It's not your fault. These things happen, I'm fine. Let's forget about it okay?"

"But it _is_ my fault. It's _all_ my fault. It wouldn't have happened at all if it wasn't for me and you wouldn't have been hurt if you hadn't tried to save me. I can't-"

"Oi. I said forget about it. Now shush and show me your room."

I tried to speak again but Phil took my lips between his fingers and held them shut. I swatted him away, rolling my eyes. "There's nothing to show. This is my room. Yey."

"There's plenty to show! Your bedroom is special. It's the only place you ever truly own. It's where you go to calm down when the world comes crashing down around you and stuff. It can be as peaceful or as loud and hectic as you need to recover from the world – like sleep or emotions or whatever. It doesn't matter, your bedroom is your own and it exists only for you. I mean, have you ever stayed in some else's bedroom when they weren't there? It feels weird." His eyes were glistening and sincere. "Only you know all its secrets and all its perks and specialities. It's your privacy. It's where you live your fantasies and practice your speeches and your dance moves and your poses and no one will ever know, because it keeps your secrets. So don't you dare say there's nothing to show."

I stared open mouthed at his earnest expression.

"I- What do you want to see?"

"Your secrets. Your memories. Your life."

* * *

x

* * *

We lay on my bed staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars I'd glued to the ceiling when I was seven. The bed was large and soft and gloriously _brown_. It was easily my favourite feature of the room. Being a double, Phil and I could lay out without brushing against each other's wounds; talking quietly to the sound of my favourite piano compilation.

Phil's sentence was cut short by the sound of my ringtone.

"The number's blocked..." I murmured.

"Don't answer it!" Phil begged, but I ignored him. I couldn't not know.

"Hello?" I said apprehensively.

The now all too familiar heavy breathing forced static down the phone, and I was just about to hang up when:

"Hello, ballet boy." Knuckles growled. "How are you? Nice and comfy now? Little Philip kissed it all better? That's good. Just what I like to hear." He paused for a moment while I squirmed. "I'm afraid I've got some bad news though. It's not actually all over just yet. In fact, it's only just begun. Sorry about that. I guess I'll be seeing you pretty soon then. Give my love to Philip."

The line went dead.

I groaned, Phil just closed his eyes – face pained.

"They can't kill us." He whispered. "Anything else we can get through as long as we have each other."

"No. It's not fair! This has nothing to do with you, they're only hurting you because you're with me, this is all my fault-"

"Stop it!" Phil yelled. To my horror, tears were pricking at the edges of his eyes. "On your own, you won't get through it. They can't kill you on the outside, but on the inside... I can't let that happen Dan. You have to understand, I can't. Not again. I'm going to be at your side the whole way. I promise."

His voice was quieter now, and I took his hand. More than anything I wanted to pull him into my arms and hold him close but they had already taken that away from us. What was next? I didn't want to find out.

I drew circles on his palm with my thumb.

"Okay. Never mind then, I'll let you get beaten up because of me. Because that's going to be easy."

"Shut up Dan, _please._ Just – let's talk about something else, okay?"

I sighed. "Fine. Okay. I-"

I drew in a laboured breath, trying to think of something. My phone screen glinted the sunlight into my eyes.

"You never did tell me what you thought when you heard Human."

Phil smiled gratefully, pulling me back onto the bed and laying his head carefully in my shoulder.

"I think it's pretty much the opposite to what you think, actually. It's telling you _not_ to be a dancer - to clear your heart and discover your human. Dancers are like puppets on a string – everything is choreographed for them, they just play their part without questioning it and then they are gone. Some do more than others but they just do what they're told – that's why it says 'cut the cord'. It's talking about puppet strings. It's telling you to set yourself free and become a free thinking human and be yourself, not who society tells you to be." His eyes were closed in thought. "The whole thing is a question though - Is our conscience a reflection of ourselves or of what we've been taught to believe? Are we human or are we dancers? Are we free to do as we want and be ourselves? Or are we supposed to just go along with the motions that the choreographer or society or our parents or God or whoever has planned out? It doesn't make its mind up either way I don't think, but I haven't heard it nearly as many times as you. It's just philosophical, I guess."

I nodded slowly. It was kinda disconcerting; everything I'd based my love of the song on just thrown back in my face.

"I guess I get where you're coming from, but I still think it really means dancers are the good ones. It talks about leaving everything human behind and breaking free – grace and virtue and souls and devotion and stuff." I said stubbornly.

"Yeah, but it's talking about them because they're expected of us – he says he gets nervous when he sees an 'open door' and he has to just go for it by closing his eyes and cutting the cord and stuff. To become human, take the leap and ignore what we're told." He surveyed me through his fringe of dark hair, an amused smile playing across his lips. "But maybe that's part of the question too. Is being a dancer a good thing or is it better to be free thinking? When you work together so much more can be achieved and it's all infinitely more beautiful and stuff, but then if you're human you are yourself and you owe nothing to anybody."

His tone was serious suddenly and I ran my fingers through my hair.

We sat in silence, lost in our minds.

Phil broke it this time. "I have to go back. Your parents will be home soon and it's pitch black outside. Will you come with me? I don't want to be alone tonight."

* * *

x

* * *

_Katie Kempton swore as she squinted through the rain and into the night. Heavy windscreen wipers distorted her vision so all she could see was the reflection of her own headlamps in the glistening tarmac. The downpour was creating standing water on the road and she swerved and yanked at the steering wheel so as not to skid on huge black puddles. She was half an hour late for dinner with her mother in law and in a foul mood. It had been a long day at the office; she'd wrestled for forty minutes with the photocopier only to discover Mark had already printed and filed the documents and was laughing at her over a cup of coffee with Stacy and Meg from HR. _

_The road was empty and Katie was driving recklessly fast, already on bad terms with her husband's mother she knew she'd get a grilling from her own if they had to reheat the meal._

_It all happened in an instant. Katie only had time to register her annoyance at the people playing bloody pop music on radio 4 before a small black car without any lights swerved out of nowhere, tires squealing, and onto the road in front of her at 90mph. The impact was enough to cut Lady Gaga off mid sentence._

_As the airbag was punctured by a chunk of distorted metal Katie's phone started blaring out Paganini – her Mother's familiar ringtone._

_"Fuck." She said, and then she died._

* * *

x

x

* * *

We burst through the door breathless and soaking. As Phil slammed it behind us, I took in the scene in front of me.

Chris was lying on the bed in just his boxers, huge red and purple welts littering his torso. PJ was gently wrapping his calf in a blood soaked bandage, both his arms tinted pale blue and yellow from bruises that were just starting to swell. I heard Phil's gasp as he turned around beside me.

"What the hell happened?" I whispered.

Chris grinned at me. "PJ and I had a little lover's tiff."

"Sure." Muttered Phil behind me.

"We're both fine, don't worry about us. You two look like you've had a fair beating too!" PJ smiled sympathetically.

"Yeah but that was nothing to do with you – why did they come after you!" I spluttered.

"We're just so good looking they got jealous." Chris tried to laugh, but it turned into a groan of paint that he stifled with a grin.

Trust him. Even now, barely able to move, he was still trying to crack a joke.

"It's not fair." I whispered. "Why did they do it?"

"I'm surprised it took them this long actually." PJ said amiably. "We haven't really been making a secret of us, I guess they figured if you two were together but sharing a room with us that would be weird, so therefore we must be gay too. It is highly contagious after all."

I moaned quietly, sinking onto the bed with my head in my hands. "Who did it?"

"Oh the usual psychos." Chris pulled a face. "When the normal people saw they went ape shit of course, but not until Knuckles had had his fun."

My stomach twisted. "This is all my fault."

"Oh shut up Dan." Phil said tiredly. "He's been beating himself up all afternoon, it's not like those bastards didn't do enough of it."

PJ moved to put an arm round me but I pushed him away. "Stop it! You should be looking after Chris and Phil and yourself, I'm the least hurt of all of you… I can't believe I can just sit here not doing anything. Oh God. It _is_ all my fault.

"Hey no Daniel." Chris chastised, trying to pull himself upright but giving up with a gasp of pain. "We've had it coming a long time, it would have happened even if you'd never come here. At the very least we were planning to go to the leaver's dance together in matching pink suits."

"No we were not." PJ muttered, but Chris ignored him.

"I reckon they'd suspected us for a long time. We were just too happy to be normal. All they needed was an excuse, and they would have found it sooner or later. So don't be silly Dan, we're all in this together and it's over now."

"No it's not." I said quietly. I could see Phil biting his lip out of the corner of my eye. I ran my fingers through my hair for good measure. "Knuckles rang. Apparently it's only just begun."

Chris's smile only faltered for a second. "Great! I could use a good work out; I'm getting a little podgy belly on me."

I moaned, kneading my forehead with my knuckles. "Stop it. Please. You don't have to pretend for me. You're a mess and I'm practically unhurt compared. I don't care what the reasons are we can't just let this happen! We have to do something."

"Like what, martial arts training? Why pay someone to beat us up when we can get it for free!" Chris grinned and it took all my strength not to punch him.

"I don't know what, but we have to do something."

"Well let us know when you figure it out." PJ smiled sadly, "In the meantime, I'm taking Chris in the shower."

* * *

Phil settled down with a book as they disappeared so I grabbed his laptop, trying to just 'forget about it'. On top of everything else I couldn't get the image of dream-Knuckles out of my head. Red, undulating eyes. Yellow, pallid skin twisted into a malicious grin. The cruel laughter…

The house scared me too. It was like the kind in horror movies, abandoned and decrepit – falling down around me. And the writing on the walls… It didn't look English, so I stuck it into google translate. Apparently Decidida means 'of course' in Thai. Well that was really helpful. I ran my fingers through my hair and closed my eyes. I was a wreck. Fretting over nightmares and phantoms. I sighed.

* * *

"Oi can one of you chuck me Chris's towel?" PJ called from the bathroom.

I hopped up, Phil still absorbed in his book.

Chris's towel was well worn yet still soft, faded and patchy in areas. It was strangely comforting in my arms – pulling my away from the demons and back into security and comfort. The soft smile felt good on my lips.

* * *

x

* * *

When I left the bathroom (considerably wetter and soapier than I had been before) Phil was on his laptop, book abandoned on the pillow.

I sat down beside him with a forced smile (for his sake), looking curiously over his shoulder at the bright screen. He had the browser history up, a list of every search I'd made in the last three days winking cheerily back at me. I gulped.

Phil's face was deathly pale as he turned to face me.

"Dan," He whispered, "There's something I have to tell you."

* * *

x

x

x

x

* * *

**_I essentially just wrote 4000 words in two hours so i'm really sorry that it's awful - I will probably rewrite a bunch of these chapters. I'm leaving for a week's holiday in an hour wooo! so this is a double chapter so you're not left with nothing to read, but as it was all speed written the quality's not great and there's not a lot of plot development and yeah sorry :/ As i've said before - it would be so amazing to come back to a bunch of new reviews (please) and you better appreciate me skipping chemistry to get this finished before I left :P I love hearing your theories (both on here and on tumblr)(some of them are better than the actual plotline laughs) and even if it's criticism it means a lot that you've taken the effort to write :3 see you in seven days lovelies XX~_**


	18. Chapter 18

_When I left the bathroom (considerably wetter and soapier than I had been before) Phil was on his laptop, book abandoned on the pillow. _

_I sat down beside him with a forced smile, looking curiously over his shoulder at the bright screen. He had the browser history up, a list of every search I'd made in the last three days winking cheerily back at me._

_ I gulped. _

_Phil's face was deathly pale as he turned to face me._

_"Dan," He whispered, "There's something I have to tell you."_

* * *

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" PJ burst through the door with a battle cry, dripping wet and completely naked. He was brandishing an empty bubble bath bottle filled with soapy water and he charged towards us – pushing aside the laptop and squirting Phil in the face with a whoop.

Chris followed seconds later (limping slightly) with the shower head – water spraying the whole room. Phil was trying to say something but their yells drowned him out. I tried to fight my way through the waves to Phil's side but he just shook his head and mouthed 'later' with a laugh.

Before I could respond, Chris's skinny arms wrapped themselves around my neck as he jumped onto my back. I yelled, trying to wriggle my way out of his damp, slippery grasp; but I was shamed into submission when my elbow glanced off his ribs and he let out a low gasp of pain.

PJ had taken Phil with much less of a struggle and was now straddling him triumphantly, pointing the still pouring shower head into Phil's face as he tried to block it with his arms.

"Can you two _please_ put some clothes on." I groaned, shielding my eyes.

Chris laughed as he let go of my neck, collapsing with a huff and a wince onto the bed. "What's the matter Dan, is it getting a little too hot in here for you?"

Phil sniggered from under PJ, finally giving into the soaking and spreading his arms wide and turning his face to the shower. "Dan is very easily excited."

Chris and PJ both joined in the laughter, bouncing up and down in the deluge.

I threw a sodden pillow at Phil's head. "I don't know why you're laughing; you're the ones who have to sleep in these beds tonight."

"Nah we're all coming to your house!" PJ winked, spraying me with the shower before focusing it back on Phil's face.

"What?!" I spluttered, blinking the hot water out of my eyes.

"Yeah we've decided we're not safe here so we're all going to yours for the weekend, Phil says your pad is pretty big." Chris grinned up at me, and I turned to glare at Phil.

His expression was sheepish as he struggled to sit up, finally upturning PJ on to the pillows.

"It was just a suggestion... at least until some of this has died down? I mean we can easily just go home it just means we'll have to miss college and-"

"No it's okay..." I sighed. "I _guess_."

Phil beamed, his smile enough to positively knock me off the bed.

"I'll have to ask my parents first though," I warned.

"Yeah of course!" he grinned happily.

I rolled my eyes, turning to survey the damage. "You know you could have just _asked_, you didn't need to launch a naked fucking tsunami into your bedroom..."

* * *

X

* * *

I skimmed absentmindedly through my paper until I heard the soft thud of the book closing and felt two warm arms wrap around my waist. Phil's dark hair was still damp from the shower and it brushed my jaw as he laid his head on my shoulder.

I smiled. My mum had just been so relieved that I'd found some less 'dangerous looking' friends that she hadn't even noticed when we'd only taken the one mattress for Chris and PJ.

I buried a soft kiss in Phil's hair and Chris stirred on the floor.

"What are you two doing up there? Because PJ and I were going to have sex but we thought that might be rude. But hey, if you're doing it then we'll join in!"

I rolled my eyes and I could feel Phil cringe in my arms. A muffled thump reached my ears as PJ hit Chris sleepily with an inanimate object.

"What were you going to tell me earlier?" I murmured into Phil's hair as silence resumed.

"Later." He whispered back. "It's nothing."

My brow furrowed. It hadn't seemed like nothing at the time. I opened my mouth to speak again, but Phil curled his legs up around mine and buried his face in my bare chest with a contented sigh and I closed it again. It could wait till morning.

PJ's quiet snores filled the darkened room. It was just as it had been; quietly comfortable, warm and secure. Except there had been subtle shifts. Now we were sleeping in my room as the dormitory – once my safe haven – had become too dangerous for anyone. Now, PJ and Chris slept tight in each other's arms as if joining to fend off the night terrors. In fact, I couldn't remember the last time they'd sprawled out happily alone in their separate beds when darkness fell.

Maybe they weren't as untouchable as I'd thought.

Under the duvet, Phil's hand found mine and our fingers entwined; our snores joining PJ's and Chris's in quiet, restless unease

* * *

X

* * *

My mind was fuzzy, the last remnants of a dream chased away by the realisation that I was awake again. It was a nice dream, something about sitting in a big oak tree in meadow full of flowers but the details were fading fast even as I tried to recall them. With a mental sigh I allowed my brain to focus and cautiously opened one eye. The bright sunlight cut the room in half and I could see dust-motes dancing in the wall of light. I pulled the duvet up over my head, screwing my eyes shut against the light. Phil stirred at my side.

"Morning." He croaked, one blue eye open.

I pulled the blanket off my head with a smile. "Oh hey there."

"I like this bed." He murmured. "It's soft and springy."

I sniggered, flashing him a wink and enjoying the flush that crept into his cheeks. He ignored me.

"There's more space too. I don't have nearly so many bruises as usual from your kicking."

"Ouch!" I laughed. "I don't kick!"

"You do when you're having a nightmare." He said quietly.

The laughter faded from my face. "You don't, you just cry a lot." I whispered.

His expression was grim and we surveyed each other. He nodded slowly.

"Well it's a good thing I've got you to wipe the tears away, I wouldn't wanna ruin my pillow case."

I smiled sadly. "Sorry about the bruises."

He gave me a quick squeeze. "It's okay. It's not that often, considering. Let's work on no more nightmares, hey."

I nodded in agreement. "That would be nice. I think you have more than me though."

His face twisted. "Yeah. I reckon you might be right there."

"You wanna tell me about it or...?" I asked softly.

Phil cast a furtive glance over at Chris and PJ, sleeping soundly on the floor. "I think I have to. I, just not right now. There's... a lot to tell." He sighed and I kissed him gently, bringing a subtle lift to the corner of his mouth.

"Just promise me you won't go trying to find it out yourself, okay? I'll tell you everything. I owe it to you, you've been amazing. I just- I don't want you to hear it from someone else. Just promise for me, okay?" He muttered earnestly.

"Yes of course." I nodded, my stomach twisting with guilt as I remembered the research I'd already done.

He smiled gratefully. "I _promise_ I'll tell you everything. Literally, as soon as I can. Pinky promise."

I grinned, looking for a subject change to lift the dark from behind his eyes. "You've got me saying 'literally' all the time now you realise."

He chuckled. "It's so annoying I barely ever say it anymore!"

"It's like a disease that you've passed on to me." I shook my head disapprovingly.

Phil punched me gently on the arm, rolling fully onto his side and curling his legs up to his chest in the foetal position. His eyes were wide and light. I rested my hand on his hip, trying to pull him close but his legs got in the way. He seemed to get what I was trying to do because he lifted his knees and shuffled into my side, entwining his legs with my own. We stayed like that for a while, his face buried in my neck, my arm around his back. It was too early for real waking up, and the sun had that bright clarity and birdsong of the just-after-sunrise period. Warm and comfortable, we fell slowly back into slumber.

* * *

X

* * *

The ball sailed over our heads and into the trees. As PJ ran after it with a curse, Chris did a lap of victory around the garden – hands in the air, chest thrust forwards to the extreme that he had to practically waddle. His face contorted humorously and he turned it to the sky with a yell, tongue hanging out.

Phil and I laughed from the grass, once again opting to sit out from the football. The weekend had been like an oasis; the paradise my house.

"Are you going to tell me about... you know?" I murmured across the daisies. They fluttered and danced in my warm breath.

Phil looked away, biting his lip. "Later. It's gonna take a while."

I nodded, I didn't want to push it. He would speak when he was ready.

"No worries!" I grinned, rolling over on top of him and digging my fingers into his ribs.

Phil squealed, I laughed; Chris disappeared into the trees screaming Latin and PJ turned a cartwheel.

* * *

X

* * *

"You boys eat like bloody elephants!" My mum complained as she pulled yet another dish of steaming pasta out of the oven.

"Polite and helpful elephants!" Chris grinned, licking the lips as he set the table.

My mum smiled warmly at him. "That I can't dispute. I'll happily swap the three of you for my Daniel!"

"Mum!" I complained, folding my arms.

PJ chuckled as he passed me balancing a stack of glasses. "I'm your favourite though, aren't I Mrs Howell?"

"I love you all equally." My mum winked, sliding the dish on to the table. "Phil is the sweetest, Peej the most polite and Chris the most charming... if a little odd at times."

"He _is_ rather inappropriate, isn't he." PJ said mock-seriously, and Chris smirked.

My mum just laughed and ruffled my hair. "And I guess I have to love Dan, his dancing is quite nice I suppose."

I rolled my eyes. "Stop embarrassing me mum. I'm hungry."

"That's one thing I've learnt, never get in between a teenage boy and his food..." My mum muttered as she bustled out of the kitchen.

"I love your mum." Phil giggled.

"I reckon she loves me most!" PJ chipped in.

"That wasn't what she was screaming last night..." Chris winked.

I groaned and buried my face in my arms.

* * *

Their laughter faded into contented munching, the smell of pasta bake filling the warm walls of my kitchen.

* * *

Chris and PJ fought over the washing up, trying to impress my mum. I stroked Phil's arm absentmindedly as I watched.

"Phiiiiiiil," I murmured.

"Yes Daniel?" He raised his eyebrows.

"We still haven't had that talk, you know..."

His brows lowered again. "Not now. I promised didn't I?"

"Yeah, of course. I was just reminding you. Don't worry about it." I grinned, risking a quick peck on the lips and looking up to make sure my mum wasn't in the room.

"I'd never break a promise, Dan." Phil said softly.

* * *

X

* * *

It had happened out of the blue, I argued. It wasn't like I'd gone _looking_ for it. It had quite literally come to me. He couldn't blame me for that bit...

Bryony had wandered in to the dorm during fifth period while I was sprawled out on the bed reading Game of Thrones.

_Hey you'll never guess what I found out_ She'd said. So, naturally, I'd said _What?_

_The sister of the dead guy we found is at this college, in year ten._

And that had been it, I'd found out the name of course – Caitlin Beier; blonde hair, green eyes, average height, small group of friends that hung out in the main courtyard... And that's all it had taken. A bit of research, and I even knew what hoodie she'd been wearing last time she was seen at college.

The guilt in my stomach threatened to engulf me completely as I strode briskly out into the sunshine, Phil safely consumed by a 4000 word essay in the library.

* * *

X

* * *

Her hair was brown with a soft wave; sparkling grey eyes hidden by a fringe. She was dressed all in black and white with a crimson scarf - reminding me a little of the revuers from 'The Night Circus'. I warmed to her immediately.

"Hey," I smiled, "Do you know someone called Caitlin Beier?"

She blinked, heavy lashes covering the flecks of blue her eyes, and looked up at me – surprised. "Um, yeah. She's my friend, but she hasn't been in school since her brother died."

Her voice was soft and sweet, somehow melodic. A flash of sadness spread across her eyes and I smiled sympathetically.

"Did you know him well?"

"Not really well…" She said carefully.

"You've been questioned by the police, huh?" I asked genially.

"Yup." She said icily. "Thoroughly."

"It's okay I don't want to interrogate you!" I laughed, quickly backtracking – I didn't want her to stop talking. "So have I, only I'm not entirely sure why. That's why I was trying to find out a bit more of what happened - because they think I'm involved but I don't know how!" I threw in another laugh for good measure.

She raised her eyebrows, clearly not buying it. "Wow. How traumatic for you."

I winced. Ouch.

"Sorry. I didn't mean- what's your name?"

"I'm Dani." She said, folding her arms across her chest and surveying me shrewdly.

"Well I'm Dan!" I grinned, but she just rolled her eyes.

"Look," I sighed, "It's my boyfriend. He's somehow involved in all this but he won't tell me how. I just want to keep him safe."

Her expression softened. "You're worried about him? I think, given the circumstances, if he _is_ involved that's probably a good idea."

A knot tightened in my stomach. "What do you mean?"

"Let's go sit. I'm not promising anything, but maybe I can tell you something that will help you understand whatever situation your boyfriend's in."

I followed her through the courtyard towards a scattering of low, wooden benches beneath a copse of trees.

I noticed how she folded her hands carefully in her lap as she sat, swinging her bag on to the floor in between her knees. It reminded me of the way Phil always hugged his knees to his chest whenever he sat on the floor. Protective, comforting, careful.

She turned her eyes to fix me steadily. "There are several things you should know." She said. "Firstly, Jakob Beier was a drug dealer."

* * *

x

x

x

x

x

x

* * *

_**IT'S BEEN SO LONG I'M SORRY THIS IS AWFUL I'LL REWRITE IT TOMORROW I HUST HAD TO HAVE IT UP BEFORE MIDNIGHT BC I MADE LOADS OF PROMISES AND KEPT LETTING THEM DOWN BUT IT HERE NOW BYW**_


	19. Chapter 19

**Oh look it's the big reveal (or is it?)(hehe)**

**[also i use a bad word beginning with 'c'. sorry about that i tried several alternatives but it just ****_wasn't the same_****]**

* * *

It took a moment for her words to register in my head; another for them to sink into place.

"Do you think- do you think Phil knew?" I stammered.

The vibrant greens and blues of the leaves in the sky seemed to fade into monochrome as I fixed my eyes on hers with an intensity that was probably a little creepy.

"Is he friends with Gabes and Jake Mansford in year twelve?"

"No. No definitely not." I snorted.

"Then I doubt it," she said, "He kept it very secret. He'd never been into drugs, but his dad left them without a lot of money. He didn't have a good time in school and wanted something better for his sister, so he started running small time drugs for the local dealers. He worked his way up a couple of levels and managed to send Caitlin here off drug money." She shrugged.

"So is that why he was- ...you know. Because of something to do with drugs?" I said slowly.

Dani shifted uncomfortably on the bench. "It's complicated. It's probably nothing to do with your boyfriend and I really shouldn't be taking to you –"

"I think it might though!" I said, trying to keep the eagerness out of my voice. "Phil met up with Jakob the day he was killed."

Her eyebrows raised and her mouth puckered into a little 'o'. "Oh. Well. Maybe... He could be the- Now wait how do I know I can trust you? Caitlin wouldn't want me telling people this, she feels shit enough as it is."

"It's not Caitlin though you can leave her out I just want to know about Phil-" I tried to keep my tone sombre and sympathetic, but I was struggling. Finally it was all becoming clear.

"I wish I could." She sighed. "Unfortunately, Caitlin has everything to do with this. I'm really not sure I should just be talking to you - I've no idea who you are-"

"It was cocaine, wasn't it." I interrupted, bluffing. I couldn't lose this source.

"I- how did you know?" She said, her voice suddenly low.

"Phil told me." I murmured, crossing my fingers behind my back.

"Shit, okay... well, maybe if you know that... that's the bad bit I guess, there's not much more to tell. Okay." She took a deep breath.

I praised the heathen Gods as I shuffled closer to hear.

"Okay so yeah Caitlin was taking coke but she had no idea it was her brother's gang she was buying from and _he_ had no idea she was a client and it got so bad because she was going to parties and she wanted to be popular and grown up and stuff so she was buying more and more and asking him for money for clothes and spending it on coke essentially from him which was just so ridiculous. But like, coke is not good for anyone and it was kinda ruining her life. She started getting really angry even when she wasn't high and she was spending everything she had on drugs and booze... Jakob loved her more than anything, he basically gave up his life for her so obviously he noticed and started getting worried but because he'd never taken a drug in his life he didn't recognize the symptoms so one day when she was at school he raided her room and well he found the stash in her knickers draw." She was speaking so quickly I could barely make out a word, leaning in so close our heads were almost touching.

"He got mad and confronted her and ended up spilling about his dealing and so she called him a hypocrite and hit him and stuff because she was high and he kinda broke down because he blamed himself. But then he had to go to work and I don't really know much about that side of things because I've only got this from Caitlin but there's a guy called Rod who is like on the same level as Jakob, and he was the one who'd been selling to Caitlin. So Jakob got mad at Rod for not telling him and told him to stop selling and so they had a fight and stuff and Jakob went home to show Caitlin all his injuries and stuff – I guess he hoped she'd be guilt tripped into stopping and it would all be happy again. Only when he got home Caitlin was waiting for him." Dani took another breath to steady herself, before sighing and brushing the hair out of her eyes.

"Caitlin was the best, she really was. So pretty and funny and she never cared about any of that before – like we were happy being weird and watching Sherlock together and stuff. Only she went completely off the rails, you have to understand! I only stayed with her because I felt I owed it to her after all those years and I _tried_ to make her stop only..."

I put an arm around her comfortingly. "Hey, hey it's okay. It's not your fault! What happened then?" my mind was working at 100mph. Where did Phil fit in? If he didn't know about the drugs, why did he spend so much time with Jakob? Maybe-

"I think this might be where your boyfriend comes in." Dani said quietly, cutting off my train of thought.

"When Jakob got home, Caitlin confronted him. It was so awful, I was in the kitchen because she'd said she needed me and I'd cycled all the way from town to be there for her only when I got there she was off her face and her mum was crying in the hallway. Turns out her mum was a crack addict even worse than Cait. Caitlin went in to scream at her mum only she was out so Caitlin got mad and ransacked her room and found it all. And crack's so much worse than normal coke. And Caitlin just blamed it all on Jakob. She said it was his fault that their Dad left, and that was why their mum went crazy. Jakob was such a good kid as well. Really smart, really sweet and loving. But even he couldn't handle that." She shuddered. "I've never seen a boy cry like that, I swear."

A shiver ran through my body and I tried to blame it on the wind.

"But he was never one to give up, he wasn't like that. Not even then. He came up with a plan to shut their gang down – I don't know the details or anything, I've never been in a drugs gang." She let out a hollow laugh.

"He had people helping him though, and I don't think they were all in the gang. I'm guessing your Phil guy was one of them as I heard him on the phone something like 'it was awful telling him' so like he wouldn't have known about the drugs before? I don't know. Anyway. Whatever the plan was, it went wrong. The big ones, the alphas, found out and sent the order to 'deal with him'. Rod was sent, someone else and Jake Mansford. I know his sister, their story's pretty sad too." She sighed sadly. "Jake was only a runner but he wanted to go up a rank which is why they sent him, it was like a test. He was charged with hiding the body but they didn't tell him before and he panicked and just put it in his freezer. His sister Ellie discovered it two days later when she went looking for ice cream for our Sherlock marathon."

Dani looked like she was fighting back tears and I gave her a quick squeeze, biting my tongue to stop myself urging her to keep going.

"When they realised what Jake had done they sent him a tonne of death threats that scared Ellie shitless, and charged the other guy with getting rid of the body as he was a lower rank than Rod. Only he was even more stupid than Jake and put it in that building site on a Sunday when there was no one there to mash it up. So now they're running out of reliable members of a low enough rank because the alphas only reveal their identities to betas and betas only to dealers and dealers to all the runners and lower rank dealers or something like that it's stupidly complicated, I'm surprised most of them have the brain capacity to work it. Anyway Rod took some people, beat up Jake and shot the other guy in the forest. That was what the gunshot was last week, do you remember? The whole college was in a state but they managed to hush it up pretty well... Ellie pissed herself in the middle of Biology because she thought her brother had been killed. It was awful."

I was speechless for a good minute. "How do you know all this?" I whispered.

Dani turned to face me, her eyes glistening with moisture.

"Because Rod is my brother, and the police told me before they took him to prison." She whispered.

The reality of the situation came crashing down on me in an instant. This wasn't just a story someone was telling me while I tried to put the pieces together like some stupid came of cluedo. This was real people with families and friends and lives and these things were _real._

I blinked, opening and closing my mouth like a goldfish. "I- I'm so sorry. Oh God, I-"

"It's fine." She said. "I've no idea why I told you all that, but it helped. Being able to talk to someone that wasn't a fucking police man. Rod's a dickhead and he deserved longer. Bye Dan."

With that, she gathered up her bag and scarf and turned on her heel – leaving me gaping under the trees.

* * *

X

* * *

I walked through the corridors in a daze, trying to digest the deluge of information. So Jakob had been Phil's friend, and he had called on him to help bring some drugs gang down in order to save his family. But Phil had apparently told Jakob he never wanted to talk to him again that day, so maybe he had refused? That would certainly explain the nightmares – 'it's all my fault'. Maybe it was because of him that the plan didn't work. Or maybe he'd agreed and fucked it up somehow, or got scared and broken their cover. And because of him, Jakob had been murdered by drug dealers. I couldn't feel sad for this unknown man, a part of me still resented him for the time he spent with Phil even though I knew it was pathetic and horrible. And all this stuff with drugs gangs and murder and fucked up people with their fucked up lives scared me. I'd thought I was fucked up, with my dancing and my complete inability to stand up for myself or break away from people and things. It was like Phil had said the second time I'd ever talked to him. It was a prison, and I was shit at getting out of it. I just did what was expected of me. Just like a dancer. The thought felt like a heavy weight in my stomach. Phil had been right – again – I _was_ a dancer, but for all the wrong reasons.

Still lost in thought, I pushed open the door of room seven.

"GET OUT!" PJ screamed from across the room.

"Wha-?" I stuttered.

"YOU'VE DONE ENOUGH YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE NOW GET OUT OF MY ROOM."

"Oh hi Dan." Chris said, poking his head through the bathroom door. "I thought I heard your dulcet tones Peej. Might wanna be a bit louder next time mate, I'm not sure he can hear you."

PJ scowled and Chris turned back to me. "He's right though. You should go, please. We're looking after Phil. So don't come back, he's my best mate and I'd like him to stay alive a little longer. Cheers."

PJ's eyes were like daggers as I backed wordlessly out of the room.

I stood alone in the empty corridor, following the wood grain with my eyes as I patienty waited for my head to come up with some kind of explanation.

Chris's voice drifted through the closed door. "The library overlooks the fucking courtyard for Christ's sake, did he really think he'd get away with it? Cunt."


	20. Chapter 20

I walked like a ghost towards the main hall, barely noticing the walls or the faces that passed me. My head was spinning. What the _hell _just happened. I tried to calm the blur behind my eyes, thinking it through logically. Phil had seen me from the library window talking to Dani. He must have recognized her and guessed what we were talking about, he wasn't stupid he knew I was trying to find out. He'd made me promise, and I'd broken it in little less than twenty four hours_. Christ_. It took all my strength not to spin round and slam myself repeatedly into the wall for being such a _fucking idiot_.

He was going to tell me eventually, if I'd only been a _little bit_ patient for once, if only I'd been less fucking interfering and nosy and just fucking _waited_...

I kept up a constant torrent of expletives under my breath as I walked, paying little attention to where I was going. What was I going to do?!

* * *

By the time I'd calmed down enough to take in my surroundings I was in the maths corridor on the other side of college, an area I usually stayed well clear of. _Ugh. Maths._ I took in the wall displays full of complicated formulas and strange squiggles with distaste.

As I rounded a corner in brooding silence I crashed straight into two younger girls in an explosion of pink. The smaller one stared terrified up at my angry face before dropping hastily to gather her fallen folders. I muttered a grudging 'sorry' under my breath and swept away, pushing the guilt down into the pit of my stomach.

All remorse vanished in an instant as I heard her whisper hurriedly to her friend – thinking I was out of earshot.

_That's the guy who fucked Dani Conners for drugs!_

**What the actual...**

I spun round on the spot, eyes wide.

Was THAT why Phil was upset? Why Chris and Peej were spitting fire? They thought I'd _cheated on Phil._

My mouth was opening and closing by itself as I stood in the middle of the corridor gaping wordlessly after the two girls.

Without thinking I broke into a sprint back up towards the dormitories, face flushed and heart pounding. My head was wild but I forced myself to slow to a stop. Calm down Dan. Think. What are you going to say? It's your word against what Phil saw. What _did_ he see? He'd have to be half blind to think we were actually kissing, we were clearly just talking. But then, maybe he'd taken his glasses off to work. Maybe I'd been leaning in close enough, maybe someone else had told him. Those girls seemed pretty convinced... Maybe Dani had said that was what happened? No, I barely knew her but I could tell she wasn't like that. Not at all. I wondered what people were saying to her, what shit she was getting.

And then, maybe it wasn't that at all. He'd seen Dani walk off, and I'd been at the door ten minutes later. Maybe it was the broken promise. Maybe it had been way more of an issue than I'd thought maybe- _no Dan stop you absolute twat_ I told myself. _You broke a promise that you knew meant a lot to Phil. He's not overreacting, you are an asshole. _

I huffed out a breath, tugging my fingers through my hair.

Phil obviously didn't want to talk to me right now. I would leave him alone for the rest of lunch then go make it up to him after college. I forced myself to turn back away. I'd take him to dinner or something. Come to think of it, we hadn't done anything couple-y since we first got together. It would make a nice get away from the sniggers in college and hell, everyone knew now – might as well enjoy the public freedom. I smiled slightly at the picture I was painting in my mind. Phil would love the romantic side of it and I'd make him dress up all nice and refuse to tell him where we're going and then maybe get some roses or something and take him on the train...

My smile faded.

Where was I going to go for the rest of lunch? The entire college was using me as a rubbish bin, and there were certain people who wouldn't hesitate to throw a quick punch as I passed. I'd always hung around with Knuckles and co behind the sports hall; and then it had been the homely warmth of room 7. I wasn't entirely sure I even knew where the canteen _was_. I ran my fingers through my hair. A year seven was giving me weird looks so I started walking randomly – better than standing so alone and obviously friendless out here in the open.

I stayed close to the walls, avoiding eye contact with passersby. Trying to make it look like I was going somewhere; as if I was on my way to meet my big group of laughing friends who would welcome me with a shout of greeting and a hug or two.

The walls and corridors blurred into one, never ending hall of shame.

A tall, lanky boy with glasses passed me and we did an awkward sidestep-dance to try and pass. It was only when I passed him again on my third lap of the maths corridor that I realised he was doing the same thing I was – walking the walls, passing the lunch hour slowly and mindlessly in a bubble of fear and humiliation. I was half tempted to stop and talk to him next time, but I stopped myself. I had friends. Maybe he did too, maybe he had just one who was off sick or on holiday or in band practice. He wasn't my year and I didn't know him. I could get through the last ten minutes okay, no one was noticing me nearly as much as I thought they were.

So I walked the walls, and tried to fade into their grey plaster.

* * *

X

* * *

In a free period it's perfectly acceptable to go to the library and pretend to work, right? There was no way I was wandering the corridors for another hour again. I held a whispered phone conversation in a toilet cubicle in order to book a table at my favourite Chinese for tonight, but it was worth the weird looks. I'd happily walk through the college naked if it meant I could keep Phil and Chris and PJ.

The library was warm and hushed and I found a corner out of the way where no one could see the blank computer screen. My favourite little coffee machine was just off to the side and the smell of roasting coffee blended into the old book smell and the gentle rustling of paper. It was so warm and peaceful compared to the tense, nervous isolation of the corridors. I felt myself relax and suddenly the weight and strain of the past 24 hours came crashing down on me. Fuck it. If I was going to confront Phil it would be better to be well rested and cheerful. I lay my head on the desk, eyes slipping shut into a fitful doze.

_Bright lights, the sound of Paganini blaring synthetically out of a mobile phone. A small dark car skidding round the corner. A crash. A flash of blinding white light. A dead girl, no older than twenty two. More shapes lying on the ground. Blood dripping from the windscreen of the black car. And suddenly I was running again, making for the house in the dell. The tire tracks led back here. It was dark. The windows were boarded but the door had been smashed through. Carvings on the wooden walls told me to 'keep out' but the rain was soaking and my feet were moving forwards. Inside, all was dark and damp and ruined. A bike had fallen down the steps into the cellar. Everything was coated in a fine layer of grey dust, except for one room. A wall had been smashed through to create a huge kitchen/living room. The table was clean, barrels and vats filled the corner. Boxed and crates stacked to the ceiling. Weighing scales, tubes, plastic bags, empty beer cans... it was all new, used recently. Abandoned in a hurry. I started to explore, but something shifted. Blackness engulfed me._

_ I was in the hallway again. The one I knew all too well. Their voices echoed from upstairs, and the pounding of heavy feet. I started to run. _

_Peeling plaster fell around my shoulders and I spurred my legs on, pushing faster and faster through the darkness. Blood pounded in my head. Their calls and taunts followed me through the black house. Every step they were gaining on me, I tried to run faster but it seemed as if I was slowing down. They were almost behind me and I slammed into a broken, ruined bathroom; wrenching the door behind me and gasping for breath. As I turned, the quiet splash of thick liquid hitting tiles hit my ears. I wretched. Blood was smeared over the mirror, forming distorted, dripping letters. I tried to make them out, my stomach heaving. Detcidda? Decidida? Detcidida? Knuckles was pounding on the door and yelling but his cries faded into the hiss of steam as the shower poured red. My eyes were fixed on the bathtub. A hand, wrinkled and bloated by the water and pale grey in colour was reaching slowly over the side – halting and convulsing. The flesh was rotten. Green and rancid, with great black welts that flaked and fell as it moved._

_I tried to open the door. Knuckles and Jake and Gabes were nothing compared to this, but now they were holding it against me and laughing. 'Ballerina Daniel!' they taunted. 'Dancer Dan is going to die! Die Dancer Dan!' I screamed, rattling the door handle with all my might, throwing my weight against the stubborn wood again and again and again. _

_The creature in the tub was pulling itself up. I could see the top of a head, a mop of dark hair mottled and caked with black blood and rot and chunks of flesh – bone flashing white beneath wiry hair. I blanched and cried, my head spinning, my mouth shrieking._

_Slowly, it turned its neck. Not towards me, but towards the tiled wall. And still it kept turning, all the way round with a sickening crack. I slipped down to the floor against the-_

"**Young man!** Wake up. Don't you have lessons to go to? This is not a dormitory! You're using up valuable computer space and you weren't even doing any work. If you are too tired to be at college you should..."

The librarian's scolding faded into the distance as I scooped up my bags and jogged red-faced out of the library. I was shaking, whole body broken out in a cold sweat. Judging by the sniggers that followed me I'd been yelling in my sleep too. Great.

I wiped my forehead, running my fingers through my hair.

I checked my watch. Crap. Classics started half an hour ago, there was no way I was turning up this late. Angry, shaken and a little bit scared still I turned on my heel and headed towards the dormitory building. Fuck it. Phil had finished lessons, I'd go talk to him now.

* * *

X

* * *

By the time I reached room seven anger had given way to apprehension. I still had no idea what I was going to say. I stopped outside the door, pressing my ear up against the wood and hoping to find out who was inside and – more importantly - what sort of mood they were in.

Sobbing, murmuring, sighing. Shit. Phil was still _seriously_ upset, and I'd massively misjudged my cock up.

Chris's voice rose above the others. "I mean it Phil you need to cheer up! Okay here's a joke to lighten the mood: What cheese is made backwards?... Edam! Get it? Because 'made' backwards spells 'edam'? Aww don't roll your eyes at me it's a classic!"

I snorted. Trust Chris.

Suddenly, silence fell behind the door. I held my breath.

"I know you're out there Dan." Phil's voice was high and shaky. "I don't want to talk to you right now."

I closed my eyes slowly.

"That means fuck off." PJ added.

I started to slump away, but turned back. "I'll go, but I just want you to know that I didn't cheat on you, I would swear it on my life!" I called desperately.

"Your promises mean nothing, Dan Howell." Phil said quietly. He took a deep breath, audible even through an inch of wood. "But I know you didn't cheat on me. I just want you to go away now, please."

Two sharp intakes of breath, almost in unison. Chris and PJ. "_What."_ One of them hissed.

"I'll explain." I heard Phil whisper. "Dan, go. Please. You were talking to Rod's sister. I'm assuming you know what Rod did now. And I can't trust you. So, in PJ's words: fuck off."

I bit my lip. I loved the three boys in there more than I'd ever loved anything, I would do anything for them. I wasn't going to risk making the situation worse. So I walked.

Again, I tried to think. Clearly he'd told PJ and Chris that he saw me cheat to explain his tears, and that was why they'd reacted so violently. And now, because of me, he'd have to tell them the whole story. Relive those memories while he was broken and vulnerable. And all because of me.

I slammed my fist into the plastic display on the wall. I was so pathetic it didn't even crack. For fuck's sake.

* * *

X

* * *

Walking. Rubbing my eyes furiously. Clenching and unchlenching my fists. Shaking. I was a mess.

The nightmare was still in my mind. Swirling shapes and dark figures. Cries, screams, thuds. The writing on the mirror. The blood. The bodies. What did it all mean? Today, after the new information, my mind had advanced the dream. I was seeing the drug gang's abandoned – headquarters? Hold up? Presumably PJ would know the correct terminology. But I couldn't just text him and ask. Not anymore. My stomach twisted and something hot and damp stung the corner of my eye. I wiped it away furiously.

The image I'd been seeing for the past few nights was fictitious, made up by my head from a mixture of traumatising horror movies and video games. But presumably somewhere there was a real place where they stored and distributed the cocaine and whatever the fuck else they sold. That's where Knuckles, Gabes and Jake would be right now. They'd been off college for days; they were probably hiding because of all the arrests. Or maybe they'd been arrested. I couldn't help it, a little trickle of glee ran through my body at the thought. And to think, only a couple of months ago they'd been my friends.

Knuckles' face popped into my mind, leering.

Come to think of it, no one had ever mentioned him when talking about the gang, only Jake and Gabes. Maybe... maybe Knuckles was higher up. One of the betas maybe? And no one knew his identity? The thought of slow, brutish Knuckles in charge of anything sent shivers down my spine. But then, I'd spent a good two months by his side. Knuckles _wasn't _stupid. He'd have never got into Bradfield otherwise. He had a certain sharp, cruel intelligence. He was the mastermind behind every scheme, every vicious attack. He always knew where to hit that would hurt though most- both literally and figuratively. He would have ruled with a steel hand.

It would certainly explain why Jake was so desperate to move up the ranks: he'd been tagging devotedly behind Knuckles since primary school; his small, wiry figure never more than two paces behind.

I shuddered.

This world was a far cry from the safety and four walls of my dance studio.

Dance was what I needed right now, more than anything. Escape. My head hurt, my body shook and my heart ached.

With one last glance at the wooden door shut tight against me, I turned and sprinted for the bus.

* * *

X

* * *

The double-decker jolted as we went over a speed bump and my head slammed against the window. Cursing, I pulled my neck straight – blinking away the beginnings of a doze. Why was I so sleepy today?!

My mind was still dwelling on the dream. The car crash, the writing on the mirror, Phil, PJ, Chris, Dani, Rod, Knuckles, Jakob, Gabes, Jake... snatches of phrases drifted around my head. _Alphas only reveal their identities to betas and betas only to dealers and dealers to all the runners and... I know his sister, their story's pretty sad too... What cheese is made backwards?-_

Backwards.

_Backwards_

The dream, the writing on the mirror. It wasn't on the mirror at all, it was on the wall behind me – all I was seeing was the _reflection_.

_Backwards._ Heart racing, I tried to picture the word in my head - but it was too fuzzy. I breathed on the glass and wrote with my finger, trying to spell it out. My hand was shaking and the letters were crooked – condensation dripping down in rivulets and blurring the lines. Dedicida or was it deticida or maybe detcidda-

Detcidda

**Addicted.**


	21. Chapter 21

I'd got it all wrong. My subconscious knew what was up, but I'd been ignoring it. My theories had all been so farfetched and with loosely based - how did I not see it earlier? I couldn't to accept the truth that had been right in front of me the whole time. So I'd over-thought things until I found a vaguely plausible solution.

Phil was addicted to cocaine, and had been since Jamie died.

It made sense. The facts clicked into place with an undeniable sense of certainty. It certainly wasn't unheard of, driven mad with guilt and loneliness in a new college with no friends he turned to drugs. And, when finally it seemed he had someone again and didn't need them anymore, he went to meet Jakob – only this time it was to tell him he was giving up.

Jakob had never been intending to sell to Phil that day, he was already so through with coke. So instead he asked Phil if he would help him. But Phil said no, because of me. He was staying clean for me. Jakob died because of me. Not Phil.

But hadn't I just proven I wasn't good enough for Phil? Hadn't he just broken up with me? What if he went back to it, found another dealer... He was hurting. More than I could possibly imagine. I kneaded my face with my knuckles. I'd never heard him cry like that before, but I bet he did when Jamie died, when he had to go into school and face the stares, when he took his first hit...

I tugged my fingers through my hair so viciously it brought tears to my eyes, but I was glad. I deserved it. The bus stopped. I got off. I decided to do what I always do. Avoidance, if only for an hour.

I stumbled to the dance studio blinking back tears.

Today there was no time for technique, my Pointe shoes sat abandoned in their box. I needed to _move_.

My head cleared as the music started. Now was not a time for thinking.

* * *

X

* * *

_You're evil._ I screamed to myself as I pushed my body high into the air, the twist of guilt materializing as a turn in the air, my spine contorting as I contracted at the core. I landed heavily but I didn't feel any pain, pushing off almost immediately from the floor into another run. _Phil's tears._ I span on the spot, falling and crumpling at the knees to roll. Guilt made me jump and twist, trying to break free. Pain made me turn and fall.

Fear contracted every muscle in my body.

Hatred pushed me on with a vicious anger. I couldn't have slowed if I tried.

* * *

As each emotion gave way in turn to exhaustion Miss Jodie turned the music off.

"Better?" She asked, surveying me with a scrutinizing frown.

I nodded, too breathless to speak.

"Please let me know if you feel like that again in advance, so I can bring a camera." She murmured as she held the door open for me.

My heart was pounding and I flopped completely limp onto the bench in the changing room. As I slung my bag weakly off the rail I automatically reached for my phone, pulling the straps of my leotard down over my shoulders as I tapped it awake.

_4 Missed calls: Knuckles –DO NOT ANSWER!_

I froze.

My blood round cold and my head started to swim.

_I didn't need this, not now. Not ever._

Panicked, I tossed my phone into my bag again and stripped – tugging on my jeans in a frenzy. I hadn't even made it to the changing room door before my phone was buzzing again. Quickly, I pressed the reject call button.

I was out onto the street, the chill night air sending shivers over my sweaty skin. I was fighting the compulsion to run, forcing my head to think instead. Clearly he wasn't going to just give up. I had two options: continue to ignore him, and wait for him to find me. Or, answer. See what he had to say. Listen to his threats and probably shit myself.

If I left it, he would find me as soon as I went into college. And if I didn't go into classes he still knew where I lived. And then I'd be constantly terrified – permanently on edge.

If I answered, I'd have to listen to whatever he had to say. Both options filled me with dread.

I was so tired, my body already aching. Adrenalin pushed me onwards but I could feel my muscles protesting and my legs collapsing underneath me.

As my phone started vibrating furiously once more I made a snap decision. The green answer button seemed so innocent, what could he possibly say that would hurt me enough to justify the dread of not knowing? I was about to find out.

"Hello." I whispered.

"Finally." His growl had an undertone of pure malice such as I'd never heard before. I sank onto a park bench, hiding my face in my hands as I waited for him to speak.

"You're dead, Howell. You and your fag boyfriend. You're so fucking dead. I'm going to kill you. And I'm going to make it so fucking slow and painful. I promise. And I never let people down, never. So you have two choices. Come to me, and maybe I'll let you live. Or you can mark my words I'll come to you. You have twenty four hours."

My hands were so clammy I was struggling to keep a grip on the phone.

"Wait!" I yelped.

I heard him take in a breath, clearly peeved he hadn't been able to get his dramatic hang up. "What."

"Why? I don't understand? Why now? Why me?"

"You know why. You know exactly why. My mates are dead because of you, and you know it. You're the fucker that went to the police – don't try and deny it, we all saw you walking off with the dickhead policeman. Because your crack addict boyfriend told you all his little secrets. But mainly because you're a faggot and you fucking deserve it. Twenty four hours, Howell. Think you know pain? Twenty four hours. You never did ask how I got my nickname. I guess you'll find out pretty soon, one way or the other. I'll be waiting."

My phone went dead.

I tugged at my hair, letting the chunk of metal slip out of my fingers and onto my lap. Tears were splashing freely down my cheeks and I hid my face from the dog walkers and shook.

Firstly, I was right about Phil. The thought sent a curl of pain through my gut. I couldn't picture it, sweet little Phil. Innocent. Kind, gentle Phil. Snorting cocaine in the woods. Something deep inside me screamed _No._

What was I going to do? I couldn't go to Knuckles, surely? I couldn't literally walk right up to my fate. No. I couldn't do it. I should go to the police.

_That won't work._ Insisted a small voice in my head. _They'll make you give a report, and then they'll send you home. And you can bet Knuckles will be waiting for you. And he sure as Hell isn't going to be happy._

I tasted blood in my mouth and blinked in surprise. I hadn't even realised I was chewing my lip.

What were my priorities?

_Phil _said the voice.

_Not dying _Said another.

Okay. That was a pretty simple list. I reckoned I might be able to manage it.

Number one: Don't let Phil get hurt. Obviously, I would go alone. I would have to find a way of persuading Knuckles not to go after Phil once he'd finished with me. Not dying was the key, his bravado aside I didn't think Knuckles would kill me. Not really. Sure he would beat me up pretty bad, but he always knew where to draw the line. Jake and Gabes on the other hand... I pushed the thought out of my head. Knuckles was always the one to tell them where to stop, if he'd been there in the woods Jakob would probably still be alive.

I frowned, fisting the tears angrily away from my face. I needed to think carefully. I needed a plan, and it had to be foolproof. I had to remove Phil from the picture completely. But I couldn't tell anyone about it because they'd stop me from going.

I lifted my head to the darkened sky and closed my eyes. I'd stopped noticing the cold, and the night breeze whispered through the trees – washing an ethereal tranquillity over me.

It was clear what I had to do. There was no other choice.

Phil had already broken up with me, all I had to do was make sure there was no chance of him coming back. It shouldn't be too hard. He hated me. Then he wouldn't be my fag boyfriend anymore, I could tell Knuckles that.

And it would leave Phil free to make a new start, properly this time. With someone he deserved. PJ and Chris would help, presuming he'd told them about the cocaine thing by now. He'd be okay. It would take time, but he'd be okay.

Everyone's a little fucked up.

A single tear slipped down my cheek as I reached for my phone.

* * *

_"Okay he's gone." Phil whispered as he turned to PJ and Chris with a deep breath. "There's a lot I have to tell you. And Dan, later. I just couldn't deal with it right now. I wasn't upset because of him. I made up the cheating thing because I couldn't think of what to say to explain my breakdown and why I didn't want to see Dan. I'm gonna have to go round his house tonight and make it up to him. He probably feels so shit. Oh God. I'm a terrible person, I can't _believe_ I did that. No one deserves that, especially not Dan. Maybe I'll buy him dinner or something. Oh God. I think I love him, honestly I do. Like real life love. Only I don't know how to say it, I never do. I try and slip it in but it doesn't sound enough because I'm too awkward to say it properly. I love him with all my heart and if anything happened to him... I think I might go crazy. Like before. You remember. Of course you do, you pulled me off the fucking bridge." Phil shuddered._

_"Anyway. I'm off the point. I wasn't crying because of him. When I was sitting in the library, I got a text..."_

* * *

"Hey Dan-"

I cut off Phil before he could tell me to go away.

"Don't hang up, please Phil. I- I don't know how to say this. You were wrong, what you said to them. I didn't cheat with Dani no, but I have cheated. And I'm sorry, because I know you'll be upset. But I'm not sorry for doing it. We had a good time and I enjoyed it. But-" My voice cracked and I fought to compose myself. "I guess all good things come to an end. I don't love you Phil. I never really did. I love this guy from my old school. I never stopped seeing him and I lied when I said I was a virgin, I just wanted the sex. Because you're fit but mostly because you were there. Sorry. And tell Chris and PJ I'm sorry too. Bye, Phil."

"I love you." I whispered, but only once I'd heard the disconnection tone.

I turned into the night, my face emotionless. As the wind blew fallen leaves into my hair, I pulled my hood over my head.

* * *

x

x

x

x

* * *

**_Okay so firstly sorry for the wait - my laptop was at the doctor's and i was sat rocking in a corner for half a week BUT MY BABY IS HOME AND I AM SANE AGAIN_**

**_secondly sorry about the shittiness and crappy plot development of all these chapters oh my god it's just the holidays and i've been away and busy and my writing's been really disrupted and stuff yeah_**

**_anyway_**

**_pleasepleaseplease let me know what you think of the story so far, there's still a couple twists to come oo so if anyone's got any theories please share! HOWEVER If you could not leave spoilers in the reviews that would be really great as i know lots of people check reviews before reading anything new :) thankyou with sticking with this for so long it's like 47k words now laughs i've never written anything this long in my life it's basically a book if only i could actually write :P_**


	22. Chapter 22

It was so cold. I don't think I've ever been so cold in my life.

I left a note at my front door, alongside my bag and my phone.

Just in case.

* * *

I didn't go inside. I knew if it did; if I felt the warmth, if I saw the familiar sights and all the memories and felt the softness of my mother's embrace that I'd chicken out.

I had to do this for Phil, I owed it to him.

He had to have a good life – finally, after all his suffering. With me gone, Knuckles no longer interested in him, the drug gang shut down... Maybe he could start again. Finally have a normal life.

I had to hope, it was the only thing that drove my feet onwards down the pavement.

* * *

x

* * *

Knuckles' house was a good hour's walk away. I normally took the bus but hey, I had twenty three hours and walking felt good.

Alone with my thoughts it was impossible to block the memories out, so instead I let them flood – paying little attention to my feet on the wet pavement.

I remembered the first time we'd managed to get the bedroom alone for the evening. PJ and Chris had looked knowingly at each other and announced they were going out for dinner with a wink.

I'd come in from the shower and Phil had been sitting on the bed looking up at me, knees hugged to his chest. I'd never seen him look so shy. It was such a difference from the first time in the woods, where he'd taken control and shown me what to do with a gentle confidence. This time, I approached him. This time, I lifted his chin and kissed away the anxiety that lined his face. This time he asked if we could turn out the lights, and I said okay. Because it was nice. Without sight, everything becomes touch. Everything becomes slow and soft. Phil's fingers stroking gently over my body to find my face. My giggles as I fumbled with the bottle cap. The smell of cherry filling the close, warm air. Looking down where I knew Phil's eyes would be and reaching for his lips. Missing in the dark, and kissing my way along his jaw instead until I found them. The silence afterwards. Phil's fingers in my hair.

Tears fell freely down my cheeks, and as they landed it began to rain.

I remembered working in the library with Phil. His giggles as I snaked my hand up his thigh under the desk. His eyes so wide and shining as he glanced over the computers to make sure no one was noticing and scolded me under his breath. But he didn't push my hand away.

I remembered the weekend at my house. I remembered Phil's glee as I pointed out my favourite climbing tree. How he'd ran to the bottom of the garden while I laughed, how he'd climbed like a monkey and within seconds I was running after him with a whoop. I remembered the way PJ and Chris had shouted for us when they couldn't find us, I remembered Phil burying his face into my leg to muffle his laughter at their bewildered expressions. I remembered having to loop my arms around his shaking shoulders to stop him falling out, and laughing myself.

Laughing so hard I thought I'd never be sad again.

I remembered pulling Phil up onto my favourite sitting branch right up at the top and showing him the view as Chris and PJ wandered back inside. I remembered his smile. His bliss.

His eyes so bright I thought they'd never shed another tear again.

I remembered sitting for what seemed like hours and yet no time at all. We clung to the branches and each other, picking out shapes in the clouds. Of course, I had to be the one to ruin it. Here, on top of the world and away from everything else, I'd brought reality crashing back down around us. I'd asked him about Jamie. What it had been like, when he had gone. I asked Phil if he got depressed, because I was naive and depression seemed like such an alien thing back then. You'd see the kids, the 'emo' ones. You'd hear everyone talking about them_. You know Tom? The really weird one who doesn't talk? I've heard he cuts himself. Like with razors and stuff, like he deliberately chops himself up. What a weirdo. I don't understand why anyone would do that._

And then suddenly it's not the just the weirdo in the corner anymore, it's your best friend. It's the popular girl with the perfect life. It's that girl who's never shed a tear, I swear. And no one knows what to do anymore. So they talk behind their friend's back and try and figure out what to do and quietly debate whether they're really depressed or if they're just doing it for attention. And life goes on. I'd seen it happen. I'd seen the scars on my old friend's wrists but I never understood, not really. So I asked Phil to describe it.

He went very quiet for a moment, still watching the clouds. But I waited. Because I wanted to know. Because this time, I wanted to help.

_It's like walking on the side of the road through the rain_. He'd said.  
_And then people stop to offer you a ride, but you tell them that you're fine, and that you like to walk through the rain._

And then I'd understood. That was why no one ever knew what to do when they traced the scars on their best friend's wrists. Because no one ever told them. So they did the only thing they were told. _Pretend it's not there. Go on as normal._

* * *

As I walked on the side of the road, the rain grew steadily heavier. A people carrier full of laughing children slowed beside me and the driver rolled down her window and asked if I needed a lift, but I told her no.

I laughed at the irony then, splashing onwards over the paving slabs. Not even bothering to skip round the puddles or the dips where tree roots had lifted the tarmac.

I walked the long way round. I was in no hurry. I felt lost and vulnerable without my phone, but I knew it would be blowing up by now. PJ and Chris. Would they say anything? Or would they leave it, pretend I never existed, focus on Phil. Tell him what a dick I was. Tell him how much better he could do. Tell him the truth.

My mum. She wouldn't have found the note, not unless she had to go and let Percy in from the rain because he'd got stuck in the cat flap again. And then, what would she do? She'd call the police, of course she would. That was what any mother would do. But they wouldn't find me. Not now. It was too late, I was less than ten minutes from Knuckles' front door.

The area was rough. There was no other way of putting it. Council flats towered high into the sky, half the windows broken or boarded up or held together with duct tape. Graffiti covered every surface and hooded figures watched me pass before sinking into the shadows. I was one of them now, with my hood so far over my head my face was hidden in darkness. But the community in these places was strong, they would have known I was an outsider the moment I entered their lot. I started to wonder if I'd ever make it to Knuckles' place and I pulled my hoodie close around me – feeling the cold for the first time.

Now that I was here the prospect seemed so much more daunting. Maybe I should have tried to find some body armour before coming. That would have been a sensible thing to do, twat. Some shin pads or knee protectors. A couple of extra jumpers to soften the blows. I swore quietly under my breath.

* * *

It was only standing here that it hit me, how smart Knuckles must really be under the loping bravado. There was no way any kid from here could afford private school with anything other than a full scholarship. And I bet he got a whole lot of shit from the rest of this little island for going to posh school. All of a sudden I felt sorry for him. Ugh.

I knew that would change soon enough.

And I knew that I couldn't possibly know what awaited me behind the peeling green door.

A part of me wanted to run in; wanted to get it over and done with – wanted to feel the pain that I knew I deserved. For what I'd done to Phil. In reality, nothing Knuckles could do would be enough: Phil's was worse than any physical pain; but at least he'd be able to recover, eventually. Whereas I... I didn't want to think about it.

I was face to face with a small two story terraced house on the edge of the estate. You could tell that the person who lived here was respected by the lack of rubbish and cigarette butts tossed on the front lawn by passersby and the cans skewered onto the fence spikes.

I stared at the green paint. I stared at the darkened windows. I stared at the concrete walls. But mostly my gaze focused on the door knocker. Where most people had a lion head or a brass knob, Knuckles had a vicious iron knuckle duster nailed and hinged to the door. His trademark. Of course.

The black spikes were brutal. The heavy metal was thick and notched.

The last tear slipped down my cheek, and finally my eyes were dry.

I was ready.

* * *

x

x

x

x

x

* * *

**_omg okay sorry about this (i swear every afternote is just me apologizing) anyway thankyou for all the reviews of that chapter woAHH like thank you are all beautiful 3 idk what else to put here so i'm gonna do what i did last time and just be greedy and ask u for stuff i mean hey god knows how long it's taken to write this shit i'm allowed to ask for help okay woo I've been looking at my stats and out of all my stories this one has the least views it would be amazing if i could bring it up to the same level as stories like one year that has less than 1/7th of the words but 3 times as many reads so like please share it if you enjoy it and stuff omg i sound like a youtuber now i'll stop_**

**_Also - i replied to some people's reviews only i doubt you'll see it so imma post here: firstly to two of the anon people, i can't find the youtube link :c second omg what facebook link thing whatt?!_**

**_third: i'm actually english i only think football is a contact sport because i'm a wimp whoops but i s2g people are expected to 'accidentally' kick each others shins and tackle each other and stuff ew ew ew nO_**


	23. Chapter 23

**_this one is long bc i didn't have the heart to break it up after all the cliffhangers i've left you with whoops I may well rewrite it though because i'm not 100% happy but here it is the important one you've all been bugging me over woo (sorry) _**

* * *

X

X

* * *

The iron knocker was ice in my palm. I lifted it once, twice and let it fall. The spikes had carved a dent in the wood over time that intensified the hollowness of the sound so that it resonated all down the street. Doubtless was his intention. I waited, my face blank and emotionless.

A voice from inside called out, muffled by the door. "Come in."

There was something off about his tone, something that sent shivers down my spine. I was expecting yells -deadly whispers - curling malice and heavy silence. Instead, Knuckles' voice was high and strained, almost choking.

Cautiously, I pushed open the door.

The sight that met me made my eyes open wide with shock. Knuckles was crouched in the hallway, leaning over the figure of a small girl with his arms around her shoulders. She was crying softly, her head in her hands, a sheet of fine dark hair splayed haphazardly around her face. As I stepped over the threshold, Knuckles raised his head. His eyes were red and puffy, but his glare was scorching.

"I didn't think you'd come." He said, his usual growl somewhat hoarse yet dripping with malevolence. "But I'm glad. Now you can see firsthand what you've done."

I opened and closed my mouth wordlessly, backing slightly towards the door.

"This is Jake's sister Ellie. You remember Jake, don't you Dan? Your _friend_?" Knuckles sneered.

"I don't understand," I whispered, "why's she crying?"

"Why's she crying?!" Knuckles exploded. "WHY THE FUCK DO YOU THINK SHE'S CRYING? YOU KILLED HER BROTHER!"

I took another step back, shaking my head noiselessly and raising my hands helplessly in front of my face. "Jake's... dead?"

Knuckles brow furrowed and he pulled himself up, shaking. He took a loping step forward so that I could feel his hot breath on my face. "Jake and Gabes died three days ago in a car crash trying to escape the police, thanks to you."

"I don't know what you're talking about!" I stammered. "I didn't know they were, that they were _dead_. Oh my God. Are you sure I, I had no idea about any of this till literally a few days ago and _I swear_ I didn't go to the police!" My pleas faded into the emptiness.

Knuckles raised his eyebrows incredulously, lunging forwards to grasp my wrists in his fists and pin them behind my head. His thick fingers dug painfully into the soft skin on the inside of my wrists and he pushed his face so close to mine that the hairs on the back of my neck were brushed by his breath. "If you're lying to me..."

"No! _I swear_ it's the truth I _swear_ on my life honestly _I never_..." I whimpered, screwing my eyes shut.

"Why are you here then?" He growled. "Why would you have come unless you were guilty and finally ready to face me? Or are you just here on a social call?"

"Because you said you were going to kill Phil." I whispered, my eyes still tight shut. "I came to tell you that we'd broken up. So there was no need anymore. Because he's not my boyfriend. So that means you can leave him alone, right? It's me you want."

Knuckles' eyes bulged and something shifted behind them.

"Phil didn't tell you?" He hissed, releasing my wrists as if he'd been burnt and taking a step backwards. "_He didn't tell you_?"

"Tell me what?" I spluttered, massaging my hands and stumbling backwards. My heart was racing, I wasn't sure how much longer it could take this.

Knuckles ran his fingers over the stubble on the top of his head as he backed away, his eyes intense and bewildered. I blinked in surprise. It was almost like... _looking in a mirror_ a small voice said. My stomach twisted.

"I don't understand." He mumbled. "I thought that was why... why else? Why wouldn't he...? I don't understand."

"I don't understand either." I said, trying to sound braver than I felt. "Why am I here if you're not going to beat me up?"

"Did I say I wasn't?" Knuckles growled, looking up sharply from his hands.

I blanched, lowering my head silently.

He started to pace up and down the dimly lit hallway, ignoring the sniffling girl. Clearly coming to some kind of decision he wheeled around to face me.

"Alright." He huffed. "I'm going to talk, and you're going to listen. I have beliefs that I hold to in everything and one of them is knowledge and understanding and shit. I reckon it could solve most of the problems in this fucked up world. But mainly I'm going to tell you because I don't think that they should have died without anyone knowing why they did what they did."

I nodded meekly.

"I beat you up because you are a twat. I want you to understand that. You're in this world, this world of fantasy and fucking rainbows and shit. _And you have no idea_. So when you go around getting all upset and emotional over the tiniest fucking things, you piss me off. And you piss everyone off. So let me tell you some things."

He walked over to Ellie, still crumpled on the floor.

"Jake dealt drugs. You know that. But you don't know why. This is his secret, and then maybe you'll understand why your dance is so fucking pathetic and why you deserve every hit you got for caring too fucking much about your precious little secret.

"His dad, Dave something, beat him up all his fucking life. And I'm not talking a couple of slaps like what we gave you. I'm talking broken bones and concussion and internal bleeding and shit and it wasn't just him; Dave beat his mum too and then his little sister too when she came along. Dave was a psycho. Jake had to do something before Dave fucking _killed_ one of them or something. He couldn't go to the police, because then they'd come and find out his mum was messed up and hid in her bedroom all day because she was too scared to go outside, too scared to get Ellie dressed and take her to school even. Jake did all of that, he always did – even when he was so fucked he could hardly move he always made sure Ellie got to school with her hair brushed and her clothes not smelling too bad so the social people wouldn't come. The police would call them though, and they'd put them both in care and they'd be split up and she needed Jake and he couldn't leave her or his mum.

"But Jake couldn't stand up to Dave. Because he was only twelve and Dave was mental massive and a boxer and not even fucking Mike Tyson could stand in his way when he was drunk. Jake needed help. He needed people that were hard and would look out for him no matter what.

"That's another thing most people don't understand. These gangs, they're like family. They have to be because if anyone isn't loyal to anyone else they're _all_ going down. They care because most of their members don't have families – not really. Jake didn't need the _money_, Dave was rich enough to send him to Bradfield. He needed protection. But with these people you don't just get – you have to earn. You have to earn the respect and the trust so Jake told them he wanted to join, wanted to help. The longer he stayed the more they trusted him and the more protection he got and that was why he was so desperate to move up the ranks – he wanted to get to the big shots, the ones that would be able to give the order to quietly deal with his Dad once and for all so he could finally help his mum and his sister get better. And maybe they'd have a shot at a normal life together. Jake didn't do it too well, but he tried. Fuck he tried so hard. To everyone else he was a sadistic psycho, which was true I guess. But that wasn't his fault. It was messed up, Dave smoked a fuck tonne of meth while his mum was pregnant and I guess she breathed in the fumes or something because he came out schizophrenic and fucking manic depressed. He was suicidal fifty percent of the time, and every time he tried to cop himself he went mental with guilt because it would have left his mum and his sister alone.

"No one ever understands because they don't _try_ to. That's why I looked after him Dan, to stop him killing himself or some poor little kid when he got bad. Because looking after him was looking after his mum and his sister too, and every stranger that got in his way. And he died scared. He died without Ellie or his mum by his side in a car with smashed headlights on a road somewhere trying to get away from the warehouse where they kept all the gear because some little SHIT spilled to the police. So I'm going to ask _you_, Dan Howell. How HARD is your life? Boo hoo you cheated on your boyfriend and now he doesn't love you anymore more. BOO FUCKING HOO someone found out your deepest, DARKEST secret. Your life has fucking ENDED because everyone knows you dance around in a FUCKING leotard well you POOR thing HOW FUCKING **HARD IS YOUR LIFE."** Knuckles screamed.

He was shaking. His hands were balled into fists so tightly clenched that the veins were bulging out of the skin and hi s eyes were wide and popping. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly under the long thin scar that ran down his face.

He took a couple of steadying breaths and then, with a deliberate effort, slowly resumed his pacing.

"That's why I did it. I want you to know that. I don't like people who just deal out punishment without explaining why. I thought you knew, I thought Phil had told - I'll come to that. But I thought you knew and yet you still went on as if you were the most important little fairy on the planet and I wanted to expose your 'deepest, most darkest secret' because then I thought you'd see how fucking superficial and pathetic it was. But you didn't, you cried and hid and took your little family of queers away and I bet you all cried together about how _hard_ your lives were. How _fucking_ awful they were."

To my horror, tears were glistening in the corners of Knuckles' eyes.

"My two best friends are dead." He said. "Well? Aren't you going to say something?!"

By now, I had perfected my goldfish impression.

He let out a growl of frustration and slammed a heavy fist into the wall, making the whole house shudder. "I _want_ to believe you Dan, fuck I want to. When you first moved to Bradfield you were so innocent and bloody helpless and I wanted to protect you just like I did with Gabes and Jake and I wanted to keep you away from all this, I was _convinced_ you were a good person. That's why I got so angry when you proved me wrong, when you cheated on Phil, when they saw you talking to the copper."

"I didn't cheat on Phil!" I burst out, finally finding my voice. "I only told him that so he'd break up with me and you wouldn't hurt him!"

"Now we both know that's not true." Knuckles shook his head slowly. "You were seen, with Dani Connors of all people. Don't try and tell me you didn't know about her brother – I know you did. You knew that he was the one who persuaded Phil that coke would be the answer to all his problems in the first place, the one that sold to fourteen year old Caitlin Bieir and then killed her brother when he got pissed. You knew exactly what you were doing, how else would you have known who to talk to?"

"It was an accident and I_ didn't_ cheat!" I said earnestly. "Ring up Phil and ask him now if you don't believe me, he saw it! I told him I was seeing a guy from my old school behind his back the whole time. I did it to make sure we were definitely broken up. Why do you even care so much – _why me_? There are so many people at our college with really great and happy lives that fuck up a bit sometimes - why couldn't you take it out on them?! I didn't _ask _for any of this, it's not my fault I didn't understand I just didn't know why me and _why Phil_?!" I was nearly crying now, and I heard Knuckles sigh.

"Come through into the other room. I don't want Ellie to hear this." He said quietly, shaking his head at my pathetic form.

I followed him, shaking, into a dingy sitting room. A single sofa that looked like it had been taken from a dump took up most of the room, opposite the smallest TV I'd ever seen – one of the grey ones with a huge, dusty box behind rather than a flat screen. I perched gingerly on the edge of the sofa. It smelled of stale beer and tobacco smoke.

Knuckles crashed beside me, the fabric sinking with a crunch of broken springs under his weight. He buried his face in his hands.

"Fuck I'm just going to tell you." He muttered, almost to himself.

He dragged his face up and turned it to mine, grey eyes steady in brown.

"I've been madly in love with _fucking_ Phil Lester since he moved here three years ago."

My mouth dropped open. I wasn't sure I could find the muscles to pull it closed again, wasn't sure if I even had them anymore.

"He rejected me three times. Politely, but firmly."

My head started to spin._ Knuckles_. I fought with my face, trying to control my expression. _Jesus._

"I just wanted him to be _mine_ so I could look after him, hell I've had enough experience to know when someone's hurting. He was so fucking beautiful and he let slip the first time I ever spoke to him that he was gay. And that was it. Bloody infatuation. That's why it pissed me off so much, when you got together. Because I'd tried _so_ hard, I bought him flowers and took him to dinner and told him how much I loved him _every single fucking day_. And you did _none_ of that. You just waddled along your big brown eyes and suddenly he's in_ love_. And you're so perfect together aren't you. It hurts Dan, it fucking kills. You can't really expect me to be overly friendly towards you after that. And I swear he's the only person I've ever loved, really truly. And that fucking _hurts_, because you're not good enough for Phil."

I stared. I stared at Knuckles Ned, taking him in properly for the first time.

"And Phil didn't tell you. I thought, I just _assumed _you'd all know now – that he would have told everyone and you'd all be laughing at me and that why I went so fucking crazy. But he didn't, he didn't tell _anyone_ despite everything even now he hasn't told you. Don't you think that proves just how much better than either of us he is? Yeah he's a little fucked up, but so's everyone. He only ever hurt himself and as soon as hurting himself could hurt someone else he fucking stopped and I've seen how hard it is to quit."

He sighed softly, his heavy eyelids slipping shut.

"You sure as hell don't deserve Phil Lester. But neither do I."

I didn't say anything. I didn't have anything to say. I couldn't speak.

I watched Knuckles' wide shoulders tremble as he took another shuddering breath.

"So now you know. I'm not gay, at least I don't think so. Phil is the only guy I've ever fallen for. He's special. I always knew I wasn't, that Phil deserved a fucking angel or something I don't know. But_ you're_ not an angel. You're a whiny little ballerina with about as much heart as a cockroach."

He looked up at me, almost defiantly, as though expecting me to speak - to protest him even. But I didn't, because he was right. And I was still struggling with the moving muscles on my face. Still trying to take it all in. My heart was seriously struggling by now, definitely too many emotions for one evening.

He sighed, throwing his hands up in the air in defeat.

"I'll just keep talking then, shall I." He said sarcastically. "Jesus. If this shocked you _that_ much... you really _have _been living a life full of bloody unicorns."

There was no humour in his eyes and his tone was flat and emotionless. He turned to stare blankly at the wall.

"At least Jake has someone to mourn him." He said quietly. "Gabes doesn't have anyone. His story is simpler, but no different. Because I bet you just thought he was a drugged up thug, just like everyone else. Just like Jake wasn't. Because you _didn't know._

"His parents died. It happens. It was a car crash - kinda ironic, huh. He went to live with his Gran but when she died there was no one left so he was shoved into care with all the other unwanted screwballs. Aged nine the older kids thought it would be funny to feed the new kid cocaine. Care homes are rough.

"While it was just on his tongue it was fine he just had a tingly tongue and he didn't _know_ what it meant and he was okay, just about, with a headache and a numb tongue for a few hours. But it wasn't long before he was watching the other kids and copying them because that's what lonely little kids _do_. I bet they thought it was hilarious. He wasn't like the other kids though, his parents were minted and they'd left him a trust fund so his social worker got him fostered and sent him to Bradfield. Only now he was addicted beyond anything I've ever seen before. And I've seen a _lot_, but I guess it was because he started so young. The money he got each month from his fund wasn't enough, not _nearly_ enough to cover his need. So he asked Jake to get him inside and suddenly he's got a family again. But it's not his fault, Dan. Why does _no one understand_ that? He was _cutting down_, he was doing so well even though it was literally _driving him crazy_. And every day at the gym he pinned the picture of the bastard who gave him his first hit to the punch bag. That was what I was there for, I helped him. I got him through each week, with Jake's help. We were there for each other and they were doing so well. Things were looking up at last. And now they're dead."

Knuckles' head was in his hands, his shoulders limp and defeated. We sat in silence for what seemed like hours but I suppose was more like a minutes. I sat, and I understood.

* * *

x

* * *

Eventually, I found my voice. I practiced opening and closing my mouth a few times. I took a deep breath.

"What about you?" I asked quietly. "What's your story? How did you end up in the whole drugs thing?"

His whole body jerked, the muscles in his neck taught and bulging.

"I've _never_ had anything to do with drugs." He spat. "**Never."**

His response was so vicious I jumped backwards in my seat. "Oh. Sorry, I just thought..."

"_Never_." He snarled. "I've seen what they do to people, what they did to my parents. My Mum's in prison for slicing my face open with a kitchen knife when she was tripping and my Dad's on the street because me and my sister kicked him out. Trust me, I would rather _die_ than end up like them. _Do you understand?!"_ He rumbled.

"Yes." I whispered.

His breath was coming out in great huffs, his shoulders shaking. I wasn't sure if he was going to scream or cry or punch me. I focused very hard on my hands folded in my lap.

"That's the fucking story, there's _nothing_ fucking heroic about this _fucking_ scar."

He breathed great calming breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth. I counted fifteen before he spoke again.

"Well." He said quietly. "Aren't you going to say something?"

"I- I don't know what to say." I mumbled. "You're right, I had no idea. Of course I didn't. And I'm sorry I just.."

"Speak." He muttered. "I'm trying to understand you too here, remember."

I took a deep breath, speaking quickly and tensing for a blow. "I still don't understand - If you only ever wanted to help me why did you throw me in the pond? Why did you, well, _scare_ me so much that night?"

Knuckles raised his eyebrows.

"I told you. It's your fault you didn't listen. We had to prove you were loyal - that we could trust you with our shit. We need each other. We tell each other our deepest fucking secrets. If I'd told you all this and you'd baled on us when Jake OD'd or something _fuck _knows what would have happened. And you proved that day that you're not _loyal_, not even a little bit. Your nature tells you to run and abandon your friends the moment things get a little cold and wet. That's why I hated you with Phil, I knew you'd hurt him. Knew you'd do the same to him in a heartbeat."

I couldn't respond, not to that. I stared at the carpet, threadbare and greying. I couldn't tell what colour it had been originally but now it was faded and so scuffed in places that the floorboards were showing through.

Knuckles sighed again.

"You're really fucking pathetic. I'm glad you ran, I wouldn't want you as one of my mates. You would probably have shat yourself to death."

I couldn't contest that. The idea of running away from drug dealing psychos with guns and god knows what else made me feel positively sick.

"Look, whatever you did or you didn't do, my I don't think you really meant to hurt anyone. You're not cruel; I doubt you could say boo to a butterfly if I held my glock against your head. So I've decided. I'm not going to hurt you. I shouldn't trust you, not on anything, but I believe in second chances. So this is yours. Make it count, faggot."

With that, Knuckles pulled himself up off the sofa with a grunt. "I need to go look after Ellie. I don't know what's going to happen, she can't go home and if she stays here the police will find her eventually. I have to fucking do _something,_ now Jake's not here anymore I'm all she has left and I owe it to him. And I don't know what to do, Dan." He sighed, running thick fingers over his scalp.

"Let me help, please." I murmured, pulling myself to my feet.

Knuckles shook his head with a dry laugh. "No. You're out of your depth kid, go back to your happy little fantasy world and do yourself a favour: try to pretend none of this ever happened. You don't want to get involved in all this shit, trust me. It's just painful and fucking hard. Go home Dan."

"What am I going to do though?" I said, my voice rising in panic. "What do I say to Phil? How do I explain to him what happened wha-"

In one swift movement Knuckles closed the distance between us and gasped my throat in his fist. The word choked in my throat as I fought for breath, clawing desperately at his fingers. The fire that blazed up in an instant faded from his eyes and he slowly loosened his grip, turning away with a look of disdain.

"Oh I don't know Dan. Why don't you go crying to that girl in the hallway, see if she has any sympathy. Tell her all your troubles and how horrible and difficult your life is. I'm sure she'd love to listen to you and tell you it's all going to be okay." He strode out into the hallway. "Piss off Dan, you don't belong here. Get out of my house or I _will_ kill you."

* * *

x

* * *

I could hear him clattering in the kitchen as I fought to regain my breath. He was right. With one last pitiful look around me – at the bare walls, the lack of family photos on the mantel or warmth from the dusty radiators - I padded shamefaced into the hall. Ellie was still where we'd left her, trembling. I crouched down and bit my lip.

_No one ever understands _

"Hey - I'm, I'm sorry. I know that nothing I can say will mean anything or help or anything but I am. I really am. And I really hope that everything works out okay for you in the end, and that-"

I was suddenly aware of hot breath on the back of my neck. "Touching words, Howell."

I straightened up quickly, holding my breath.

"You have no idea. Leave please." His voice was cold.

And so I left, keeping my head down and closing the door quietly behind me.

* * *

As I walked slowly back through the estate I looked around me. At the high rise tower blocks, the graffiti, the garages and the bikes and the shadowy figures moving silently through the night. And I wondered what stories lay behind each faceless door.


	24. Chapter 24

I slipped through the front door, catching the letter I'd left on the way between my thumb and forefinger and crumpling it into a ball. The stairs were dark and the house was silent.

A strange calm lay over my heart with a heavy sort of silence. All the fear and anxiety was gone and it was as though my body was struggling to find something to fill the gaping hole it left behind. So I just felt nothing, for a while. The door closed behind me with a muffled thud and I sat down on the edge of my bed.

I realised then what my body was experiencing. It was a totally overwhelming and all consuming sense of _'Now what?_' I had walked out of that door. I had walked out of that world. And Knuckles was right, I shouldn't go back. There was nothing I could do – I would probably just end up getting myself knifed or taking cocaine or something and Knuckles had set me free, I should grasp that opportunity with open arms. But what now? Where should I go, who could I speak to, what was I going to _do_? Phil would never talk to me again - that much I was sure of.

Ahh. Good. There was some emotion. Slowly yet surely I was filling back up. Only now I was filling with pain.

I lay back on my bed with a huff and screwed my eyes shut.

Knuckles had thrown me forcefully out of his world. Jake and Gabes were dead. Phil would never talk to me again. Nor would Chris or PJ.

Fuck.

Just as things were finally starting to look up I was left completely and utterly friendless again. I was going to have to get used to walking through the corridors in circles every lunch and break, and maybe make it up to the librarian who'd screamed at me. The thought sent a wave of shame through my gut. But, slowly and steadily the shame too was replaced with pain. Because my problems were consuming me completely and utterly and there was nothing I could do about them. And yet hadn't I just spent the last hour realising how pathetic they were? How absolutely insignificant and pitiful? The conflict raged somewhere in the space between my stomach and my lungs.

So I did what I always did. I gave up, and I threw back my head and wept.

I had no idea how much time had passed when the tears finally ceased to flow and my throat was left choked and aching but dry. My pillow was damp from the salty tears and my skin was cold and prickly where the thick droplets had run down my cheeks.

I had been crying about everything and nothing at all. I cried for Knuckles, for his pain and his loss, for the life he had to live every day that I couldn't even imagine and for the loathing I'd felt towards him for so long. I cried for Ellie and the misery still left to come in her life. I cried for Jake and Gabes at last. I cried for never seeing Jake's delighted grin when he won at fifa again or the simple contented happiness across Gabes' face as he stroked his fingers across his guitar strings. I cried for Ellie's mother. I cried for the characters in Knuckles' stories that I'd never even met. I cried for Dani. I cried for Jakob. I cried for PJ and Chris.

But most of all, I cried for Phil.

I cried because of the image PJ had planted in my mind with a few small words: the image of Phil on a bridge, leaning over and ready to jump. What if he did it again? What if, this time, PJ didn't get there in time? What if this time it was my fault. Because I told him I'd never loved him and he had given me his everything.

I cried because I knew it would take a miracle to hold him in my arms again.

And I cried because I was crying and I didn't deserve the tears or the self pity. If anyone should be crying it was knuckles, yet I'd never seen him shed a tear.

The conflict hurt, but it was trying to imagine the future that retied the knot of anxiety in my stomach. What was I going to do? Could I put things right? Or would it be better to disappear now before I did anymore damage?

I tried to consider life without them. I would walk the walls; maybe meet the guy with the glasses again. Start a wall walking club. Get bullied. Live out my college life then start afresh at Uni.

It was a bleak prospect.

Maybe, if I explained everything, I might be able to get them back. If I told Phil I only said that to save him, would he believe me? And then, would he take me back? _No._ Because he'd already broken up with me regardless of what I'd said on the phone. Because I'd already fucked up for real, no pretence there. I couldn't see a way no matter how I racked my brains. There was _nothing_ I could say or do that would redeem myself. Not now.

I lay and I stretched my brain and twisted it in knots. I bunched my fists against my eyes until I saw stars and constellations. I rolled over and over. I lay completely rigid. I hugged my knees to my chest then thrust them away again with a muffled yell. Finally, I lay limp and panting. My eyes were dry and stinging, my muscles finally feeling the ache of the day. I'd forgotten I'd been dancing. I had forgotten the hour's walk either way to the estate. But now my body remembered with a cry of protest and I was suddenly exhausted. I closed my eyes and curled into a ball on top of my sheets. I wanted to cry but there were no tears left, and even if there had been I didn't have the energy to force them out. So I stopped thinking and listened to the clock tick, letting a wave of empty bliss wash over me. Release lead to momentary freedom.

* * *

x

* * *

Just as I was slipping into the first drowsy stages of slumber my phone vibrated. I reached out blindly and knocked it to the floor with a clatter. Cursing under my breath I rolled over and scooped up the battery and backing that had sprung off. I fumbled to put it back together, berating myself in whispers. Finally I managed to click the back into place and sat back to wait while it lethargically murmured into life with familiar chords. It was human by the killers, of course, because I had all the originality of a particularly dull goldfish.

The lyrics meant nothing now. I couldn't find anything deep in the syllables, nothing beautiful in the melodies. It just sounded cheap and clichéd and crappy and nothing special, nothing at all. I wasn't human and there was nothing beautiful in the dancers. Yeah there was a puppet show, and I was the one who just clattered through the middle knocking everyone over and tangling the strings. Because some of the strings had been cut, and it had been my job to tie them back together but I'd fucked it up as usual.

The Phil puppet lay on the floor, his strings a tangled mess around his shoulders. The strings of his past that I'd been re-tying with big, loopy bows lay charred and burnt on the floor. I had been wrong all along, and Phil had been right. The song wasn't praising the beauty of dancers at all - rather pointing out their flaws. Their constraints. Their lack of free thought. Originality. Humanity. Phil was human. He was shining and bright and beautiful and he belonged to no one else. Knuckles was human, he wasn't content with sitting back and allowing the choreographers to weave their paths – he stepped in, he tried to set the dancers free and save them from their fate and it nearly worked. Only dancers always dance the steps they've been taught. Dancers dance their dance within a square, never seeing anything other than their own reflection in the mirrored studio and the reflections of the other dancers.

At the back of the stage there was a mirror and finally I could see myself. The shiny new white strings I'd been weaving were tangled around my own neck and my face was pale and weak.

My name's Dan. I'm a dancer, but it's my best kept secret.

* * *

x

* * *

As the music faded slowly into silence so did my mini fantasy and I was left in the black silence of my bedroom. The four walls close around my head were a cruel reminder of how trapped and helpless I was. I tapped the screen impatiently, waiting for the message to load.

I wondered who it could be at this time of night; my parents were sleeping and I didn't have any friends. It was probably the phone company. Or maybe my gran, she often went on midnight walks in her pink nightie through the centre of town when she'd overdosed on meds.

One new message: _Knuckles – DO NOT ANSWER!_

My heart pounded automatically and my eyebrows shot up into my forehead. I opened the message.

_I rang Phil. I explained everything and told him he should forgive you because you're a good boyfriend. I lied, but I hope that you might be able to live up to that one day. He's on his way to your house now so you should probably open a window or something. Bye Dancer Dan, have a good life because I sure as hell won't. And if you ever hurt Phil again I will fucking kill you._

A single hot tear slid slowly down my cheek.

* * *

x

x

x

x

x

* * *

**_Okay so this, like the one before last, is a shorter filler-type chapter because the last one was so long omg_**

**_I really wanna know what you guys thought of the last chapter because it was one of the most important and also the one i was most worried about because it didn't turn out like i'd wanted at all :(_**

**_there's still plenty of story to come don't worry, and just a little more shit to go down :P. Sorry about the wait my laptop's been feeling ill and been in and out of the doctor's but *hopefully* she's all better now_**

**_see you soon and I love you all ~_**


	25. Chapter 25

**_You asked me to make this one longer so I did because I'm nice._**

X

X

x

* * *

When I saw Phil's face at the window I just started bawling. I pulled him in out of the night and we fell on each other like children, clutching at each other's clothes and sobbing and shaking. I'd told him I could just go downstairs and open the door but he'd said he wanted to do it properly so he'd clambered up the ivy and pressed his face against the window with an apprehensive smile, ghostly white in the half light. His eyes were red and puffy and lidded with dark shadows which just made me cry all the more.

We lay on my floor without saying anything until the sobs faded into the silence. I rolled over so I was beside Phil, staring into his eyes, completely at a loss as to what to say.

"You're an idiot Dan." He whispered, choking back another sob.

"I know." I said, eyes filling with water again. "I'm the biggest fucking idiot in the world, I'm an arsehole, I'm a-"

"You're _my_ idiot." Phil cut me off.

I stared at him.

"Really?" I whispered.

He nodded, his blue eyes wide and reproachful yet still glistening with moisture.

A sob turned into a hiccup and he rolled his eyes at me. I hiccupped again. A red flush rose in my cheek and the very beginnings of a smile lifted the corner of Phil's mouth.

"You're an idiot and a massive goon and I love you." He murmured.

I hiccupped. Not sure I could trust myself to speak.

Phil sobbed once more, trailing his finger down my cheek.

"I know a good cure for hiccups." He whispered, leaning forwards slowly to press his lips against my own.

As I kissed him I hiccupped again – jolting forwards and hitting my forehead against his.

"Ow!" He yelped, jerking backwards and massaging his scalp.

"Oops." I said guiltily. (hic) "You might have to (hic) try a bit harder than that."

He raised his eyebrows. "I think you're pushing your luck a bit there Howell."

I lowered my face ashamedly. "I'm sorry I know I mean (hic) sorry yeah you're right I'm an idiot and I don't deserve you and-"

Phil cut me off by leaning forwards again and pinning my arms at my side, kissing me until my heart was pounding in the roof of my mouth.

He pulled away and leaned back, staring down at me with a smirk. My face was red and breathless. I bit my tongue, waiting.

All was silent except for the ticking of the clock.

"Cured!" He grinned triumphantly.

His face was soft and gentle and I couldn't take it any longer. I knocked his hands out from under him bringing him crashing down on top of me and wrapping my own arms around his back.

"I love you." I whispered into the fabric of his jumper. "I love you I love you I love you and I always have and I think I probably always will and I'm sorry I've never said it before but it's true and I love you. I really do, with all my heart and soul and everything and I'm going to take you out for dinner and buy you roses and I'm so sorry I never have before and I've never told you I love you I'm just too awkward and I could never find the words because 'I love you' never felt like enough before but I promise everything will change now. I love you. Nothing is more important to me than you and- _I love you_."

I was gasping for breath by the time Phil pulled himself up again, his face mere centimetres away from mine. His eyes were so blue and quiet that I started crying all over again.

"Why are you crying?" He whispered, concerned.

"You eyes are so fucking beautiful." I choked pathetically.

At that they burst into a million sparkling diamonds amongst the sapphires as his whole face crinkled into a smile. Of course, that only made me cry all the harder.

"You're an idiot Dan Howell." He whispered as he leant down to kiss me once more.

* * *

x

* * *

We lay for a while on my floor, not wanting to let go of each other long enough to move to the bed, just kissing and hugging and saying nothing at all. I trailed my fingers along Phil's arm. He caressed my face and planted soft kisses into my neck and for once I didn't squirm.

"Look at us." Phil giggled suddenly. "We broke up for less than 24 hours and we're emotional wrecks."

I grinned weakly. "I think that's telling us something. Let's not break up ever again okay?"

"I can live with that." Phil murmured. "Just try and keep your idiocy under control from now on okay?"

"Kay." I smiled. "I'm really sorry, by the way. For everything."

"It's okay. You redeemed yourself, albeit by being a bit of an idiot and trying to kill yourself. Don't do that again please either." Phil said quietly.

"I won't if you don't." I agreed.

Phil didn't say anything, he just looked at me for a moment and then kissed my cheek softly. "Not while I have you."

I tangled my fingers in his hair.

"What did Knuckles actually say, to make you come back?" I murmured after a while.

"He just told me what happened." Phil shrugged. "And then he told me to go and to take you back because he seemed to think that you would jump in front of a train to save me. He said you'd be good to have around if I found myself on a desert island because you'd probably let me eat you."

I sniggered. "It's true though. I would."

"No you wouldn't, I'd stop you."

"You'd have to kill me."

"That would defeat the point. I'd tie you up in a cave and force feed you all my limbs one at a time until I died."

"Mmm, delicious. That would be stupid though because that would leave a whole torso and an arm gone to waste. It would be better just to eat me."

Phil punched me in the arm and I chuckled.

"Why didn't you tell me? About Knuckles?" I asked as I caught his fist, uncurling his fingers one by one and drawing swirls on his palm.

He watched me for a moment. "I didn't really see any reason to. It's his secret, I guess."

"What's your secret?" I asked softly.

He flashed me a crooked grin. "I don't have any anymore, do I. I'm a recovering crack addict who tried to kill himself a couple of years ago."

"Crack?" I asked, my voice raising up a notch at the end.

He bit his lip.

"For a while." He said quietly. He's eyes were steady, his brow furrowed. "I was very young, I didn't understand but it helped. When I realised the difference I tried to stop, but it was hard."

I nodded slowly, my eyes wide. I cupped his face in my hands and stared into the pools of his eyes. They seemed darker somehow, almost indigo at points rather than the usual cerulean blue with flecks of white. Slowly and deliberately I placed a kiss on his lips.

"I want to help you." I breathed against the smooth pink crescents. "Please?" I kissed him again.

"Okay." He said simply. "It's not like I'll be able to buy any more. I'm just gonna need something to distract me."

"I can do that." I grinned, pressing our mouths together. "Just plenty of hot passionate sex whenever you need."

I could feel Phil's face heat up under my hands but my eyes were closed. He giggled, the smile stretching his lips tight into a curve.

"It's funny that you should say that..." He said, somewhat bashfully.

I smirked. "Okay. But if we wake my parents up I think I might actually die."

* * *

x

* * *

Mum got a bit of a shock when she came in to wake me up for college and found a black haired beauty in bed with me. In hindsight, it wasn't really the way I'd planned to come out to my parents. Especially as we were both stark naked tangled on top of the sheets and my mum hadn't seen me naked since I was eight. There was a fair amount of screaming and then some crying and then a lot of yelling and then she started asking if we'd used protection and at that point I grabbed Phil and climbed out the window. Neither of us had any folders or books or even a pen so we had to sprint up to the dormitories ten minutes before lessons started. It was only as we were clattering up the stairs that I thought to ask Phil if he'd told Chris and PJ yet.

"Oh shit. Don't worry, I'll run in and explain _really_ quickly and then I'll bring you in and we'll all speed hug then grab some paper and stuff and run."

I blanched. "Oh God. I'm really not prepared for this right now can we not jus-"

My words were cut short as Phil pulled me through the door.

Follows a fair amount of shouting and then some crying and then hugging and then some more shouting and running.

I arrived at my lit class breathless and panting, dressed in one of Phil's shirts (I'd run out of the house in my dressing gown) and clutching borrowed stationary and half a pad of paper.

My teacher frowned at me but didn't say anything. Everyone was staring up at me as if I'd just started singing at a funeral. I sat down quickly and looked up at the board.

_In remembrance: Jacob Mansford and Gabriel Keating. College will close early at 1:30 on Friday. You will be commissioned from lessons in order to attend the memorial in the chapel. If you would like to attend either funeral as well please contact your form tutor as places are reserved for family members and close friends._

_A candlelight vigil will be held in the school grounds at 8pm. _

Oh.

* * *

x

* * *

The funeral was subdued, Phil and I sat at the back but we felt as if we were intruding. Knuckles gave us a curt nod as he passed but that was it. It was sombre; Ellie and her mother were crying in the front row but there was no sign of Jake's dad or any other relatives. I presumed Gabes' foster parents sat on the opposite pew but neither were crying, just staring blankly at the twin coffins. The priest read some generic bible passages, sung a few hymns and then left in a hurry. I just scanned the rows and rows of painfully empty pews. So much for reserved places.

When we left we walked quickly without stopping to speak to anyone.

"Where do you want to go?" Phil asked.

"The forest." I said, and he just nodded.

* * *

x

* * *

"Hey Dan?" Phil said one morning, "Do you want to move in? Not like officially as then you'd have to pay, I just mean do you want to bring like a camp bed and a suitcase and stay here for a while? It would be a lot easier."

"Yeah Okay." I said.

He smiled, and I smiled.

* * *

x

* * *

PJ and Chris took a while to trust me again, but it came. When they saw how happy Phil was and how completely I revolved around him. When they noticed how I struggled to speak to strangers when he wasn't by my side and how he would always gravitate towards me, craving a touch of the arm or just the contact through our shirts as if seeking reassurance that I was still there. Eventually they forgave me, and everything was back to as it had been - but not really. Our relationship was no longer built on ideals and fantasies but on real life events that had shaken us to the core and somehow brought us closer than ever before.

It was looking at the world and realising that real life wasn't anything like the movies or the books or the fantasies you dream up while you're trying to sleep at two thirty in the morning. Life isn't always happy and it's not always perfect and nor is love. When you love someone, it doesn't mean that every moment you spend together will be endlessly cute and hopelessly romantic. More likely there will be drama and arguments and moments when you wonder why you even bothered but it's having someone to share your life with. That's what creates the utter inseparability that leaves you so distraught when you realise they're gone. It's the security. It's the absolute comfort in each other's arms. I had no way of knowing if I was in love with Phil or not, but I knew I never wanted to leave him again. And that was enough.

I asked Chris about love, what it was and what it meant.

He laughed at me because he always laughs, but it wasn't mean, it was thoughtful. He lay back on the grass and rested his head in his hands.

"Love is different for everyone and it's different again for each person you love, that's why it's so special I guess – because it's unique. It's yours to grow and cultivate and no one else is ever going to know exactly how it feels, which is kinda scary I guess.

"I love PJ of course, but I love Phil too – just differently. Phil's so, I don't know, thoughtful. He won't say much for a long time but then will suddenly say the best thing ever out of nowhere. He's like knowing someone who is walking in two worlds. This one, and another that no one else can see. I love him. I love him like a brother and a best friend because I think the world without him would be a pretty shit place.

PJ's a fucking goon. A very loveable and charming little gentlemen that when you get him alone turns into a massive goof ball. All he does all day is create stuff and it's beautiful, he is annoying in that way because I wish I could be more like him. I REALLY love him. I love his face. I love his mind. I love the things he comes out with, sometimes it's drawings or music or poetry or videos and sometimes it's just things. Sayings. PJ things that come from him and I've never met anyone like him before. He's a lot of things I wish I was, I guess. Our relationship is like the whole two sides of the coin thing – we're similar but also very different so we complete each other. I think without PJ I'd probably be either lonely and socially inept or a massive dick. That's what I think love is. It's not about finding a soul mate or 'the one' or whatever – it's about being with someone and growing around them until you're entwined as one. See, I would never have been able to phrase any of that if it wasn't for PJ. I'd have probably just said really good sex or something even though I wouldn't have been thinking that inside. PJ's good for me, and fuck knows what I'd do without him."

I nodded, staring up at the clouds.

* * *

x

* * *

If you fill your head with unreachable relationships and adorable perfection or an infinity of pure love and nothing else then you're going to have a reality check at some point coupled with crippling loneliness. It's the realisation that not every kiss comes with fireworks. When it suddenly occurs to you that lying in someone's arms for hours on end is inevitably going to give both of you cramp and multiple bruises. Most of the time you don't just find someone perfect and fall in love and live happily ever after and make love into infinity and beyond. Sex isn't glamorous and love isn't either, not really. I could talk for hours about the specific blue of Phil's eyes and the lift of his mouth when he smiles, but that's not what love is. Love is holding my hair while I crouched over the toilet for three hours with food poisoning and still wanting to kiss me afterwards when I was sweating and shaking and struggling to breathe. Love is wearing his glasses when he's with me because they're more comfortable than contacts even though he thinks he looks bad in them.

Love is trust. When you love someone you give them your everything unconditionally and trust them to look after it for you. It's not what you expect to receive but rather what you expect to give – which is everything.

For the romantic novelist love is something beautiful but utterly unattainable. It's superficial and clichéd and full of unnecessary romanticisms and not even the dimmest of minds truly believes them. It's a comfort, an ideal – a dream. The pages and pages filled with lavish descriptions of physical beauty and a complete lack of character flaws are replaced with a coffee in the morning and a toothpaste kiss. Tales of passionate nights under the stars replaced by sweaty, sticky awkwardness and fumbling and slipping. But that's okay.

Love isn't about staring at each other, it's about staring out at the world – together.

* * *

X

X

X

X

X

* * *

_**[it's not over before you ask][still a couple more ends to tie up but yeah we're approaching the finale, sorry :c] okay so I'm going to ask you a massive favour – if you've enjoyed this story so far please could you nominate it (or any of my fics omg) for the phanfiction awards 2013 (eek) by going to phanficawards dot tumblr .com – you'll have to log on to your tumblr as anonymous nominations only count once and just like whatever category(s) you think it should win idk only if you think it deserves it I'm just making sure you all know it's happening thankyou and I love you all and you're all the best people in the world seriously and once again i'm gonna be greedy and ask you to share this and let people know about it because i'm seeing possibilities and they're making me happy omg (i'll tell u soon i promise) **_


	26. Chapter 26

The dance studio was lit only by the lights from the changing room. It had grown so dim that all I could see was the shadow of Phil's silhouette hunched over an essay on the window sill. My legs were burning and there was the familiar happy ache in the centre of my core that told me I was just about done for the day, exhausted but contented. I pushed sweaty hair out of my face and brought a leg up to stretch out. It was a Saturday so the dance studio was empty, and I'd been here with Phil since three in the afternoon. It had been a good day. We'd started out in the forest, taking a picnic down to the river and towels this time – swimming and laughing and huddling for warmth as we tried to dry off before lounging on the grass under a damp towel and pretending to ourselves that we were working. And now we were here – he wanted to watch me dance so I made him sit as far away as possible and tried to pretend I was alone, and it had worked. He was so quiet he'd faded into the studio walls creating a peace and security in the air you don't normally get when you're on your own.

Phil looked up from his notebook as I flicked the music off.

"You done?" He asked.

"Yup. How's the essay coming along?"

"Well... I've only just really started as you're kinda distracting over there."

I laughed as I flopped down beside him. "You've literally written half a paragraph."

"Like I said. Distracting."

"Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, it's not your fault you're an angel or something I don't know. But that's certainly not human."

"No," I agreed, "It's dancing. But humans can be dancers too. They already are really, they just don't realise it."

"I'm no dancer." Phil scoffed, "Have you seen me drunk?!"

"Yes you are!" I persisted. "You just need someone to show you how. Come on."

I dragged Phil protesting into the middle of the room, his pens clattering onto the ground as I pulled him up. He folded his arms and looked at me with raised eyebrows.

"There is no way you're making me dance."

"Stay there." I said, running over to the sound system.

He tapped his foot impatiently, clearly considering making a break for it. I scrolled through my iPod as quickly as possible – searching for something good, but I wasn't quite sure what until I found it: Lou Reed, Perfect Day. Perfect. I would teach Phil to slow dance. I grinned to myself as the familiar opening bars echoed around the studio. Phil rolled his eyes.

"Come on then." I said as I joined him, slipping an arm around his waist and grabbing his spare hand. "We're going to waltz!"

Phil tried to roll his eyes again but a smirk slid across his face and I felt him curl his fingers around my hand.

"Okay," I said turning my eyes down at our feet. "I'm going to be the man so make sure you pay attention or I'll step on your toes. Now, I put my right foot forwards while your left goes back – yeah like that, and now we step to the side – my left, your right so we're like mirroring each other. Okay and step again to bring your feet together and yeah, that's basically it! Okay so now your right foot goes forward, yep, side, together, step, side together, yeah see! It's really easy!"

As the chorus kicked in, we stepped in time and started slowly to circle. It didn't matter that the music wasn't the right beat for a waltz. Phil's grip was firm and his palm slightly sticky but I knew mine was worse. His waist was impossibly warm and curved; strong and lean yet yielding. Soft. Rippling gently under my fingers. I lifted my head from where it had been resting on his shoulder, breathing in the sweet berry scent of his shampoo. Phil's was screwed up with concentration as he stared down at his feet placing each one with care. It was adorable.

I watched the muscles on his cheek slowly relax as he started to get the hang of it, and eventually he brought his eyes up to meet mine with a triumphant beam.

His lips were moving to the words, and I smiled.

_Just a perfect day; you made me forget myself. I thought I was someone else, someone good._

As another chorus spurred our feet onwards I joined in – and now we were singing. Tuneless and loud with the kind of freedom only possible with old music and close friends.

_Oh it's such a perfect day. I'm glad I spent it with you._

* * *

x

* * *

x

* * *

x

* * *

listen to the song if you want to picture it :3 this was a scene that someone asked me to write, i had planned to use it as an epilogue thing but i've just been so friggin busy and tomorrow i'm going to summer in the city (asdfghjkl i'm going to meet them and it's going to be so weird omG) so i didn't want to leave y'all for a whole week with nothing so here's like 700 words, i'm really sorry there's no new chapter really :c


	27. Chapter 27

_**Long author note at the end yo~**_

* * *

_**x**_

_**x**_

* * *

Sunshine filled the room the way chocolate sauce pours over hot fudge cake: slowly and indulgently; slipping through cracks and down the sides before melting into the pores with a deliciously warm lethargy. As the rays of light finally bypassed the curtains and fell across my pillow, I opened my eyes. Phil's dark hair tickled my nose, his warm breath on my cheek. I smiled.

His lashes were thick and dark, fanning out in a perfect arc beneath the crescents of his closed eyes and fluttering ever so slightly as he breathed. One eye was half hidden where his face squished into the pillow and I reached forwards to brush his cheek with a fingertip. As I did, he stirred a little and shifted his head – red indents from the creased fabric of the pillow pressed into his face creating an imprint on the newly exposed skin. I traced the soft lines. I wanted to kiss him but my mouth tasted like corpses so instead I kissed his lashes and hauled myself upright, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and yawning.

PJ and Chris slumbered in the bed opposite. With a little engineering we'd managed to push two beds together allowing the couples to sleep together without losing a limb, but this meant that Chris's bed almost completely blocked the bathroom door. I frowned. Carefully, I levered myself out of bed without pulling the covers off Phil and padded barefoot across the small stretch of carpet. Chris had told us just to push him out of the way when we needed to pee but in practice that was easier said than done without feeling awful – instead, I decided to try and manoeuvre myself over the bed in a series of death defying leaps and twists so as not to wake him.

Three seconds and a muffled yelp later I lay sprawled across Chris's naked body in my underwear clutching a sprained wrist. Some dancer I was.

"Is there something you two have been hiding from us?" PJ said from beside me, bleary eyed but laughing as he propped himself up on an elbow with an amused grin.

"I don't believe it," Phil said as he sat up with a yawn, clutching his knees to his chest and looking over at us. "I think Chris is _still_ asleep."

A snore confirmed it and I shook my head in bewilderment as I untangled myself from the sheets and scrawny limbs and finally made it to the bathroom door.

"He truly is an incredible creature," I wondered, cradling my aching wrist. "Sorry about that."

"I thought you were being murdered." Phil chuckled as he rubbed his eyes and squinted at the clock. "I can't see, what time is it?"

"6:30. Sorry." My wrist twinged again. "I don't suppose you keep any ice in here?"

* * *

x

* * *

I emerged from the bathroom and walked straight into Phil, his face pressed almost to the door. I jumped, nearly losing my towel.

"Jesus Christ." I gasped. "Do you want something?"

"Sorry, there's not much space here thanks to Chris's bed. Will you come meet my parents?"

I blanched.

"Yeah I mean of course I.." A thought suddenly occurred to me and my blood ran cold. "They do know about... you know, don't they?" I asked apprehensively.

"Nope." Phil said cheerfully. "And it's your job, as my boyfriend, to be by my side when I have to tell them."

"Right." I said resignedly. "So when is this happening? I'm going to need at least three years to prepare."

"Today." Phil grinned.

"Oh."

"Good luck mate." Chris grinned. "You'll be fine. Oh and did Phil mention that his Dad's a raging homophobic who keeps a gun and a pair of samurai swords in his bedroom? See you later!"

* * *

x

* * *

My hand was clammy as Phil took it reassuringly between his own.

"Calm down. It'll be fine, my parents are nice. They'll take it well I promise – they're artists. And Chris was lying about the gun."

"But not the samurai swords?!" I said, my voice rising up a notch.

"Um, well... oh no not like that! They're just for decoration. My dad only gets them down when he's _really_ drunk don't worry, I doubt he'd know which end to stick you with."

"Oh great." I muttered. "That's really put my mind at ease. Thanks so much."

Phil grinned as he rubbed my back.

"You ready?" He asked.

I craned my neck to catch another glimpse of the red brick house from where we were hiding behind a leafy bush. It was smaller than I'd expected given that they'd sent their son to Bradfield, but Phil told me there was a sprawling art studio and small river in the back garden and that they spent most of their time outside wandering the woodland anyway.

"I guess."

Phil grasped my hand firmly and frogmarched me with a determined grin up the front path. Even the doorbell was artsy, some complicated system of wind chimes.

I could see a figure moving down the hall towards us through the frosted glass and I swallowed. Phil gave my hand a squeeze and the door swung open to reveal a tall lady with warm eyes and light hair.

"Phil pet we weren't expecting you! You should have called ahead and I would have made a casserole or something, who's your friend?" She beamed.

"Mum, this is my boyfriend Dan."

Huh. Straight to the point.

"Oh," She blinked, "Well that's lovely why didn't you tell me? I would have made a cake!"

A wave of relief washed over me. She'd clearly taken it in her stride, barely a double take. As I smiled she ushered me inside and I finally returned Phil's squeeze.

"Why don't you get Dan a tea and show him into the sitting room? I'm er, just going have a word with your father."

"Well that went better than expected." Phil grinned as he led me through into his kitchen.

"She's telling your Dad right now and apparently he's got Samurai swords, I wouldn't say that just yet." I muttered.

Phil just grinned at me and scooped an arm around my waist, pulling me into a kiss.

"Oi!" I spluttered, pushing him away. "Not in your _parents'_ house, you've only just come out for Christ's sake. While they may be coping with the principle I doubt they're quite ready for a demonstration just yet."

Phil rolled his eyes. "They're going to have to get used to it eventually, might as well get a head start."

"Are you planning extended makeout sessions in front of your parents then?" I raised my eyebrows.

"No," Phil grinned, "but our wedding will be pretty public."

"Oh shut up." I laughed.

"Did I hear 'wedding'?" A gruff voice with a thick northern accent came from the doorway.

I spun round, face flushed.

"Hey Dad." Phil grinned.

A tall, sturdy man with a mop of dark hair and sparkling blue eyes stood in the doorway frowning down at us.

"I don't think that shit's even legal yet. You boys are far too young to even be _considering_..." He grumbled.

"I was only joking silly." Phil chuckled, stepping forwards to give his Dad a quick hug. "This is Dan."

I smiled weakly, giving a little wave then realising how stupid it looked and pinning my hand to my side.

"Hmm."

My blush deepened and I stared down at my shoes.

"Well Philip I can't say I was expecting this but he looks clean enough." And with that Phil's Dad walked out of the kitchen and Phil started sniggering.

"Shut up." I mumbled.

Phil giggled as he wrapped his arms around my waist again. "I think he likes you." He whispered, nuzzling his face into my neck.

I sighed and looped my arms over his back to return the hug. "You never know. He might be on his way upstairs to get the samurai swords."

"Oh _Philip,_ you didn't tell Dan about the swords did you? What must he think!"

We snapped apart, the red rising once again in my cheeks.

Phil's mum smiled. "Oh don't mind me. I just wish Phil wouldn't tell people about those before they've even walked in the door! You must think we're barking."

I shook my head and tried to adopt my most winning smile. "It was Chris that told me actually." I grinned. "It's so lovely to meet you Mrs Lester, your house is really lovely!"

I could practically feel Phil roll his eyes by my side but his mum beamed.

"Oh bless you darling. It's a bit of a mess actually as I wasn't expecting guests, and we've got granny and grandpa coming round later too I'd completely forgotten! I'm afraid I'm going to need the kitchen to rustle something up for them, Phil why don't you take Dan up to your room?"

Phil pulled me by the hand and I flashed one last charming smile for good measure, escaping to the quiet of the hall and letting out my breath in a huff of relief. The house seemed bigger somehow on the inside; I guessed it went further back than I'd been able to see from the street. There were several doors on the first floor but it was easiest to spot which one was Phil's: it was completely covered in posters and stickers and 'keep out' signs that were about as intimidating as a kitten in a tutu. I grinned.

"Yeah um my room's kinda embarrassing..." Phil muttered as he pushed open the door somewhat reluctantly.

I let out a low whistle.

The walls were green with a blue trim but they were almost completely obscured by hundreds of posters stretching from wall to ceil- shit. The posters covered the entire ceiling as well. It must have taken him ages. I knew if it had been me I would have killed myself multiple times falling off whatever chair he used to reach theroof. Around the walls were a myriad of fairy lights and futuristic looking globe lights and a collection of plushies and nick-nacks. It was beautiful, but most importantly it was Phil.

"Sorry about the mess..." He muttered as he darted in front of me, scooping clothes up off the floor and bundling them into a cupboard.

"Mine's so much worse don't worry." I laughed.

I stepped inside. It felt so entirely different to the rest of the house; lit by coloured lights and not even remotely square – a sloping ceiling in one corner and filled with so much _stuff._ I walked alongside a shelf, picking up tiny objects and examining them. A rubik's cube; a pokemon; a boomerang; plane tickets; a lion plushie; half a mars bar...

"How long has this been here?" I scolded. "You've been boarding at college for three weeks!"

"About three weeks then." Phil said guiltily. "Why, do you want some?"

"Get that away from me!" I laughed as he tried to push it in my face.

"Well?" He said, somewhat apprehensively. "I haven't redecorated since I was like seven."

"It's amazing. Way cooler than my room." I grinned. "I'm not looking forward to staring up into Sarah Michelle Gellar's face while we're having sex though."

Phil threw a lion at my head.

* * *

x

* * *

His bed was the type that was so old and broken that you could just sink into it, the worn out springs putting up very little resistance. Phil lay beside me in the nest like warmth with a sea of duvets and blankets and pillows and soft toys around us. We cuddled, careful not to get too close in case Phil's mum came in, and Phil talked me through the story behind each poster tacked lovingly to the ceiling.

"The big one of Tom Cruise is from my Nan." He smiled at the memory. "Basically she bought it for herself but got sick of hiding it from Granddad and told me to look after it for her. Whenever she's round she always comes in to say hello to him."

I laughed. "Your Nan sounds brilliant."

He grinned. "You'll meet her today. And Granddad, but do us all a favour and don't ask about the war. He can go on for hours."

Just then we heard a knock on the door. "Philip? Tea's ready!"

Clearly she'd decided it safer not to come right in.

"Come down and say hello to Granny and Grandpa then help me lay the table will you?"

"Coming!" Phil called back.

We manoeuvred ourselves out of the bed with a creaking of bed springs and groaning of wooden slats. Phil clattered down the stairs two at a time and I was left running after him, gasping for breath.

"Hello Philip dear." An elderly lady with a warm, crinkled grin and the same sparkling blue eyes as his Dad greeted Phil with an embrace. "And who's your friend?"

"Er..." Phil glanced at me, panic in his eyes.

"Joyce dear would you pop in here for a minute? And Henry? Just a quick word." Phil's mum winked at me and we both relaxed, but not completely.

The table was already half spread with a mouth watering array of dishes, the centrepiece a huge bowl of steaming shepherd's pie.

"It's nothing fancy..." Phil said as he pulled cutlery out of drawers.

"It looks delicious!" I said, hurrying forwards to help him.

* * *

x

* * *

Phil's Grandma bustled into the room a moment later and marched straight up to me. "Let's have a good look at you then pet."

My eyes were wide with panic but as I saw the glint in hers I relaxed and grinned sheepishly.

"Hmmmm..." She said, pretending to scrutinize me up and down. "Looks a bit like Tom cruise. Too skinny though." Turning to Phil. "He'll do. Can he knit and sew? Does he know how to iron a shirt?"

"Graaan..." Phil mumbled, turning bright red.

I sniggered, glowing with the praise. Tom Cruise. Well that was a first.

"Ahh well I'm sure I can whip him into shape. He's going to have to work hard if he wants to get his hands on Granny's secret recipe book! Here let me do that Philip, you're all thumbs. There's an _art_ to folding napkins."

Phil abandoned the serviettes with relief, muttering a _sorry_ under his breath as he passed me to fetch more dishes from the kitchen.

Phil's granddad was next to emerge, looking thoroughly bewildered. He eyed me suspiciously before shuffling out again without a word and shaking his head. My stomach churned. This was going to be an interesting dinner.

* * *

x

* * *

"Daniel would you be a dear and pass the salt?" Joyce grinned at me across the table and in my haste to grab the salt cellar I knocked it over, scattering white granules across Phil's lap.

Face burning, I righted it and mumbled an apology to Phil as he brushed it off with a chuckle.

"Ahh you have to throw it over your shoulder now!" Joyce cackled.

Panic stricken, I turned to Phil. I was neither mentally nor socially equipped for this situation. Was I supposed to laugh it off or did she actually expect me to throw a pinch of salt over my shoulder and onto the carpet?!

Phil just rolled his eyes at me and I settled for the first option, flashing a sheepish grin and adopting the smile and nod approach.

Phil's granddad, Henry, was next to take up the polite conversation.

"So, er Daniel. What is it you like to do then. Do you play sport? You on the rugby team at school? I used to be on every team I could get my hands on, I was quite a sportsman in the day. Our Philip used to play football, that how you, er, met? Or do you go for boxing, rowing, that sort of thing?"

My face burned and I opened and closed my mouth a couple of times, turning helplessly to Phil once more. He winked at me, a wicked glint in his eye._ Please no._ I mouthed.

"Dan dances actually." Phil said, turning back to his granddad with another wink at me.

I closed my eyes briefly, wishing I could just duck under the table and just carry on sinking all the way to China.

"Eh?" Said Henry, his bushy eyebrows raised in disbelief. "What, ballroom? With suits and dickie bows and pretty girls in frocks?" He chewed on a celery stick for a moment, digesting the information. "I thought that had gone out of fashion years back. I'm glad to see the youth of today keeping it alive."

I could see Phil's parents eyeing me with polite interest across the table. Joyce seemed to be biting her lip as if to stop herself laughing. She threw me a wink as she caught my tortured expression, the laughter lines folding and crinkling in on themselves.

"No actually." Phil said serenely. "Dan does ballet."

_Fuck you Phil Lester._

Unable to burry my face in my hands, I stared intently at my plate and carefully pictured stabbing Phil repeatedly with a pair of rusty garden shears.

"Ballet?!" Henry said in horror, dropping his fork and leaning an arm on the table to turn to me. "_Ballet?_" He said again. "With... all those tights and... _tutus_, and, pointy shoes?"

There was no point denying it now so I just nodded, my expression pained.

"Bloody Hell." He wheezed, earning a smack on the arm from Joyce.

"Aye and I bet he looks _lovely_." She grinned. "I can see why our Philip fell from him, must be quite the agile chappy. Very flexible too I'd imagine." She winked, and I caught Phil's Dad cringe out of the corner of my eye. "I used to dance in my youth. That's how old Henry spotted me, up on stage at one of his army do's."

Henry hrrumphed and took another mouthful of potato.

I thought I'd passed the worse but he started up again – clearly determined to figure me out.

"Well I'm sure you have a lot of fun up there, er, jumping around." He frowned. "So you're er, are more feminine kind of lad? Is that how it works then, the whole gay business? Do you like to, er, dress yourself up with skirts and makeup and all that malarkey, as if you were a lady, so the boys will like you? That explains the blokes down by West Street doesn't it Joyce, you know the ones with the feathers."

A spoon clattered.

You could have cut the atmosphere with a knife. I really didn't have a response to that so I just shoved pie in my mouth and stared at the table cloth.

"Oh Henry you old fool." Joyce chided. "Daniel's a lad Just like Philip, I rather think that's the whole _point."_

"_Dad."_ Phil's dad muttered, shaking his head slowly.

Phil's mum came to the rescue with a pained smile and apologetic eyes.

"Oh, would you mind popping into the kitchen to check on the crumble pet?" She said, eyeing me meaningfully.

"Yes of course!" I jumped up with relief, practically sprinting out of the room. As I escaped into the warmth of the kitchen I wondered how long I could reasonably take staring at a desert before they sent out a search party.

* * *

x

* * *

When I returned Henry was mute, staring red faced into his plate. The rest of the Lester family smiled up at me, Phil mouthing a _sorry_ from behind a napkin.

"I think it might be done actually." I announced. "Would you like me to bring it in? It looks amazing!"

"Oh that would be _lovely_ of you, thank you dear." Phil's mum beamed at me.

The meal passed otherwise uneventfully in pleasant chatter, with not another word from Grandpa Henry. Joyce quickly elevated into one of my favourite people ever, causing me to snort into my crumble multiple times; Phil's mum running a close second. Slowly, I began to relax.

* * *

x

* * *

"You'll have to visit again soon!" Phil's mum smiled as she showed us to the door. "Don't mind old Henry, he's still living in the 1940s bless him. It's just all a bit of a culture shock, but I'm sure he'll figure it all out in time."

"Thank you so much for having me, and thank you for the meal – it was delicious!" I smiled.

"Oh come here you little ball of lanky, awkward cuteness." Joyce chuckled, pulling me into a hug. "You're good for Phil. I can see that. It's the way he looks at you when you're not looking. It's _exactly_ the same as the way you look at him whilst he's staring off into space, bless him. You're a sweet boy - just flash that little button grin of yours whenever you get the chance you hear me!"

I grinned as I hugged her, earning a 'that's the one!' and another chuckle.

"Come on we're going to have to run, the last train leaves in seven minutes!" Phil gasped as the door shut behind us, plunging the path into darkness.

I took his hand and, warm, happy and pleasantly full, sprinted out into the night with my favourite Lester by my side.

* * *

x

x

x

x

x

* * *

Okay so firstly I'M SO SORRY i know it's been nearly 4 weeks since the last update. There were a lot of reasons for this but i think the main one was that the story was essentially finished in my head so writing more was hard, even though there was more stuff i wanted to write. For this reason I've decided to declare the story officially finished (plot development wise) at 25 with 26 as an epilogue. THIS DOES NOT MEAN I'VE FINISHED WRITING. The _actual_ 'ending' is semi written but i'm saving it for when i _actually_ stop writing this. There is stuff left to happen, but there won't be any regular updates any more - just as and when i feel like writing (sorry!)

This chapter (and the next few) was sorta like a 'scene I'd like to see' in the sense that someone asked to know what would happen with both their respective parents. Similarly, if there are any ends you want tying up or just any scenes you'd like to see please just let me know and i'll probably write it! Thank you so much for sticking with this and all your lovely messages, as this is technically finished i'd really love it if you could let me know what you thought of the story as a whole - what was good and what was bad. This is the first novel length thing with proper actual chapters i've ever attempted and it was like a massive learning curve oh my god, reading back over the initial chapters makes me cringe :P If i'm going to do this again (i really want to hasdfghjk) i want it to be a lot better so please PLEASE PLEASE let me know what worked and what didn't, failing that just any specific things that worked so i can recognize them and do more of them!

So yeah, let me know what stuff you want to happen and, if you have time, a general review of the story would mean a lot. I love you all and i'm so sorry for the wait XXX


	28. Chapter 28

"It's my turn now!" I announced one afternoon as Phil walked into the dorm mumbling angrily under his breath.

"Huh?" He said, throwing his bag onto the ground and sighing heavily.

"Time to meet my parents."

"I've already met them."

"You only met my mum, and I reckon a fresh start might be a good idea as _that_ event could have gone better. Come on, it's your duty remember."

"Right. Cool. Fine." He muttered.

I frowned. "Hey," I said, sinking down beside him. "What's wrong?"

"It's fine. It's my fault, don't worry about it. I'm just a massive idiot."

"Hey! Phil, what happened? Seriously?" I wrapped my arms around his shoulders.

He sighed heavily. "I failed my art coursework."

"What?!" I gasped. "But your art's amazing!"

"I just didn't get anything _finished_, I don't even know I just _didn't do it._ I guess I just got so distracted what with everything that happened you know. I just sort of wondered in there with half a folder like oh, I haven't done anything. Why haven't I done anything?" He buried his face in his hands.

I rubbed his back, biting my lip. "Is there really nothing you can do? Like, can you not finish it all and ask for a remark?"

"No." He sighed. "That's it, it's all been sent off to be moderated now. It's like 60% I've basically failed the whole exam. Oh God."

I opened and closed my mouth a few times, wishing I knew what to say. "Hey," I said lamely. "We'll figure something out. Don't worry. It's not like the end of the world or anything we can sort this."

He laughed hollowly, leaning his head into my shoulder. "There's nothing you can do, it was my fault and it's done now. Let's just go see your parents."

I bit my lip. "You really don't have to. Like we can just go to bed and watch Game of Thrones instead, seriously we'll go another time." I kissed the top of his head.

"No it's fine I want to go. I'd like some fresh air."

"You sure?"

"Mmm hmm."

"Kay. I'll call my mum."

I hugged him again, sighing into the berry scent of his shampoo and furrowing my brow. Maybe I'd ask my mum. She always knew what to do.

* * *

x

* * *

"Well surely Phil should just pledge for mitigating circumstances?" My mum's eyes were wide with concern as we spoke in whispers in the kitchen. "I mean those poor boys dying wasn't his fault!"

"I didn't think of that actually." I frowned. "Do you think that would work?"

"Of course! It's only coursework so it's internal anyway, they'll give him more time. I'm sure of it. Oh poor Phil he must be really upset about this, what with his parents being artists and all that. You should ring up the college. Sort it all out for him. He seems so sweet and it would be a _lovely_ thing to do."

"Yeah, that's a really good idea! So he doesn't have to deal with all the stress stuff."

"Exactly." Mum smiled at me. "Go do it now before he has to tell his parents."

"Wait - what no, what?"

"Ask for the exam office and just explain what happened, I'm sure they'll be understanding." My mum turned to stir the pot simmering on the hob.

I blinked.

"Can you not do it?" I mumbled, my expression pained.

"Oh, grow up Daniel." Mum rolled her eyes. "He's not my friend and he's not my son either - at least not yet I hope. It'll be good for you. You need to get used to doing these things for yourself!"

"_Please_ mum." I muttered, acutely aware of how pathetic I sounded.

"For goodness sake Daniel. The phone is in the hall. Go do it, they're not going to bite. They _know_ you."

"That's the problem." I muttered under my breath as I trudged resignedly into the hall. "It will be even _more_ embarrassing when I fuck it up somehow."

_Do it for Phil._

I picked up the phone and dialled the college number, praying silently that they wouldn't pick up.

"Bradfield college reception desk, how can we help you?"

I took a deep breath.

* * *

x

* * *

"Hey, Phil?" I tried to hide my grin behind a stack of plates.

"Huh?" He looked up from the cutlery he was laying.

"You'll never guess what."

"What?"

"I just rung up the college and persuaded them to give you more time and a remark on your art stuff due to 'mitigating circumstances'."

His mouth fell open.

"Seriously?! I didn't know you could do that! Oh my god, why didn't you tell me? I- thank you wow oh my god!"

He rushed forwards, snatching the plates from my arms so that he could pull me into a hug. I beamed as I patted his back_. 100 boyfriend points to me._

My mum came in with the stew pot and winked at me.

Okay, 50 to my mum. But I did the hard bit.

"Oh wow Mrs Howell that looks delicious!" Phil said as he turned round.

I rolled my eyes, letting him slip out of my arms with reluctance. It was ridiculous how happy his smile made me.

* * *

x

* * *

This meal was a lot less eventful than the evening in the Lester household, mainly owing to the fact it was just me, mum and Phil as Dad was working late. I finished clearing the table and popped to the loo. When I got back Phil and my mum were chatting and giggling together like school girls. As I walked in they both fell silent; looking up at me with identical grins on their faces.

"What?" I grunted.

At that, they both burst out laughing again. I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms, waiting for them to calm down. As my mum wiped a tear from the edge of her eye I got impatient and grabbed Phil by the arm to pull him up.

"Come on we've got to get back. I don't know what you two have been up to but the fun's over or we'll miss our train."

"Oh Dan you're no fun anymore." My mum sniggered; jumping up to show us out and give us both a brief hug.

* * *

x

* * *

The night was another crisp one, autumn well and truly underway. The trees that lined the dark streets were starting to lose their leaves and create a wet mulch on the pavement that glistened under the streetlamps.

"By the way, you're booked for tomorrow evening. Don't make any plans." Phil murmured as we walked hand in hand.

I raised my eyebrows. "Oh yes?" I giggled. "Have you informed PJ and Chris of these plans?"

"Not _that _kind of booked, God is that all you ever think about?" Phil cringed.

"Oh." I pouted. "Don't get my hopes up like that." I stuck my tongue out at him. "I was imagining something really kinky!"

Phil tried to punch me but I just grabbed his hand, swinging on his arm as we walked. The night was clear and the stars were shining. A freshness was in the air and I breathed deeply, swinging our hands between us as our footsteps echoed down the empty pavement.

"Love you." I mumbled.

"Love you too, idiot." Phil grinned.

* * *

xx

* * *

The shower was deliciously warm as it ran down my back and over my shoulders. My nose was filled with the smell of 'summer fruits' and I worked up a generous lather, pampering myself for whatever Phil had planned for tonight. I breathed in guiltily, the scent filling my lungs with rainbows and unicorns. It was hardly manly but I knew Phil wouldn't mind, I'd already made sure to use his favourite shampoo twice and I was seriously considering moisturizer.

"Oi!" A fist banged on the door. "Hurry up I need a shit."

I snorted into the bubbles. "Five minutes, sorry!" I yelled back.

A bang and a couple of muffled expletives later the door burst open, Chris shirtless in the frame.

"A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. Hold yerr nose sonny!"

"Noooooooo!"

"Bombs awaaaeeeooaay!"

"Oh _Jesus_!"

* * *

x

* * *

I ran my fingers through my hair, cursing myself immediately and trying to smooth it back into shape with little success. Aftershave. Clothes. Condoms and lube (hey, I could dream). Hair straightened. Moisturized. Clean boxers. Presentable. Skinny jeans. Face? Acceptable. Phone. Wallet. Bus ID. Railcard. Room ke-

Phil burst through the door with a grin and my mouth dropped open. The skinny jeans were unchanged but he was wearing a smart shirt in pale blue, his hair immaculately styled.

"You ready to go?" He smiled.

"Do I need to change? Is there like a dress code I'm gonna feel so underdressed next to you - please just tell me where we're going I-" I panicked.

"You look perfect. Now come on, we can't be late."

"Where are we going?" I protested as he dragged me out the door.

"Spoilers." He winked.

* * *

x

* * *

We arrived at the train station, the cool air calming me down ever so slightly. He wouldn't show me the tickets and he rushed me onto the platform before I'd had time to read the display on the front of the train so that I was forced to stare out the window as the rapidly darkening countryside flashed past. Phil sat next to me, a smug little grin plastered across his face. His lips were utterly and unbendingly sealed but it didn't stop me trying.

"What stop do we need to get off at?"

"The eighth one."

"Will I need to be posh?"

"You can be whatever you want to be, don't let society hold you back."

"How much money am I going to need?"

"It's my treat. None."

"But-"

"No."

"Will I need my bus ID?"

"Nope."

"Are we getting another train after this one?"

"Yup."

"How far away is it?"

"Not too far."

"Do you love me?"

"Yes."

"Then where are we going?"

"..."

"I thought you said you loved me!"

"I do. With all my heart."

"Then why won't you tell me!"

"It's a surprise."

"I don't like surprises."

"You'll like this one."

"How can you be so sure? I might hate it. If you just tell me then you can save yourself the awkwardness."

"You won't hate it. I checked with your mum."

"That's not fair, that's definitely cheating."

"All's fair in love's war."

"Oh shut up."

"Fine."

"No don't shut up- I want you to tell me where we're going!"

"..."

"Phil."

"..."

"_Phiiiiil."_

"..."

"I hate you."

"No you don't."

"Yes I do."

"Fine, go sit somewhere else then. I'll go on my own."

"I really do hate you. With all my heart."

"Great. We're getting off at the next stop."

"Shit!" I swung round to gaze intently out of the window. Somehow Phil had managed to completely distract me and I hadn't noticed the train coming into a city full of bright lights and tower blocks.

"We're in London!" I breathed.

"Well done, if you'd just been quiet and watched you would have realized a long time ago."

"Oh shut up."

"Have you got your ticket?"

"Yes _mum_."

"Good boy, now mind the gap and hold my hand – the station will be really busy and I don't want to lose you."

"I loathe you."

Phil dragged me towards the tube but made me close my eyes so that I couldn't see which line we were getting on. The train was packed as only to be expected on a Friday night and I found my carefully preened hair shoved up against the rucksack of what resembled a rabid mountain lion in a jumpsuit. A small lady clutching a briefcase had her face in my armpit and I was grateful for the extra deodorant.

We got off at Covent Garden and I raised my eyebrows questioningly but Phil made no comment. When we finally fought our way out of the station he linked his arm around mine with a grin and produced an immaculate red rose from somewhere unknown. I blushed.

"Oh Phil. You're ridiculous. How did it not get squished?"

"I was careful." He poked his tongue out somewhat sheepishly as he handed it to me.

By now it was almost completely dark, streetlamps casting pools of yellow light down onto the pavement. The usual hustle and bustle of London city had relaxed into a cheerful, shining night atmosphere and the air was cool against my skin, making me glad of Phil's warm arm. He led the way leisurely giving me time to take in the tall buildings and bright lights. It had been a while since I had been in London. I smiled up at the stonework, leafy trees obscuring my vision every now and then. Great stone archways hundreds of years old stood next to sleek glass tower blocks; fast cars weaved in and out of narrow, winding cobbled streets. Hundreds of thousands of people talked and laughed as they meandered. We were heading away from the quaint old market, veering towards the Strand and the lush green Lincolns Inn Fields. I didn't bother asking Phil where we were going, content at last to watch the world go by in a swarm of black cabs and thick coats.

Phil's arm tightened slightly on my own and I snapped out of my daze, squinting into the darkness. The white top of a building was visible above the trees. I stared around me. We were on Bow Street. Why did that name sound familiar? I looked again at the building, craning my neck as we rounded the corner. Suddenly it was looking in front of us and lips parted into a tiny 'o'. Huge, white columns protruded out into the street; ornately carved and adorned with crimson flags. Great slabs of white stone towered into the sky and carvings glittered with moisture.

"The Royal Opera House." I breathed.

Phil bit his lip, his eyes wide and his brow furrowed. He nodded.

"Are we going to the opera?" I asked.

Phil just shook his head and I looked again, close enough to read the signs.

"Swan Lake!" I yelped.

"I _know_ it's really clichéd and like the most famous ballet ever but your mum said you'd only seen Coppélia and she thought you'd want to see it and it was the only thing on because I wanted it to be like the proper royal ballet company and here and like it's one of those things that you have to see at least once and I just thought that-"

"Shh." I whispered, pressing my finger against his lips. "It's perfect. Beyond perfect. Oh my God. You really didn't have to do this for me I, what brought this on literally _oh my god_." I sighed at the plush wide open doors full of chattering, excited people queuing.

"Mostly because you're amazing and I wanted to do something special just for you." He mumbled into my ear as we moved forwards slowly. "But also because of what you did with my coursework. Like, there was no need to do that at all you could have just told me but you did it. Just because. And it was, well, the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me. So I wanted to repay you."

"You didn't need to _repay_ me, literally that was nothing!"

"I wanted to though. I've never been to the ballet before, remember."

Lost for words, I brought his lips to mine under the glow of a streetlamp.

* * *

x

* * *

The seats were red velvet; cramped yet deliciously comfortable. I stared avidly at the curtains: thick, rich satin embroidered with thousands of threads and jewels to form intricate patterns that closed tantalizingly over the set. We had fourth row stall seats – the kind I would never be able to afford – and from here I could see the theatre in all its glory. I had never been inside the ROH before and the finery completely overwhelmed me to the point where my neck was aching from staring up at the ceiling. Domed roof. Carved. Lit by a great, glittering chandelier that would have killed hundreds had it fallen. Four circles curved their way up towards the roof, each filling with chattering, excited voices as people of all ages settled down in their seats only to jump up again in order to let someone past with a chorus of _sorry!_'s.

There was a sudden buzz of excited noise as the lights dimmed, and then all was silent. From here I could see the top of the conductor's head down in the orchestra pit, its movement slight but enough to pinpoint the exact moment he raised his baton.

The lilt of the oboe filled the theatre. I stared with all my might.

"If you're going to make that face the whole way through I think I'd rather just watch you." Phil whispered with a grin.

I blushed, but his teasing wasn't enough the kindle the light in my eyes or calm my beating heart.

The music picked up and I turned my attention back to the stage, barely managing to stay in my seat.

The curtains opened in a swish of satin. The trumpeters on stage parted and Prince Siegfried sprung onto the stage in all his white thight-ed glory.

"Now _that _is a nice arse." Phil whispered.

I punched him on the arm, not averting my gaze from the figure leaping and twisting just a few feet in front of me.

"_Jesus._ That has _got_ to be padded." Phil added.

"Of course it's padded." I whispered back with a grin. "Wouldn't want any accidents in _those_ tights."

Phil sniggered and quietened down, content to watch as more dancers filled the stage in shimmering costumes and a breathtaking grace. Slowly, as the magic and the music washed over me, I fell into a blissful trance.

* * *

x

* * *

Phil was watching me. I had become slowly aware of it since the beginning of the second act. Grudgingly, I pulled my eyes away from the stage.

His were soft and blue, a tiny smile playing across his lips.

"What?" I whispered.

"I could easily just watch you watch the ballet all evening. Your face is amazing. Your reactions tell the story just as well as all that prancing about. And anyway, I don't think I've ever seen you so blissfully happy. You look like you do when you're dancing only without the intense concentration frown. It's kinda amazing and a lot of beautiful."

I blushed. "Don't watch me. Watch the ballet! God knows how much these tickets cost you. It's amazing, one of the best ballets ever."

"I know. I can tell, it's really beautiful. I don't ever want it to end."

"Odette's only just arrived," I laughed. "There's still a fair way to go."

"How do you know their names? They don't speak!" He frowned.

"Shhh!" I giggled, glancing guiltily over at our neighbours. "It's one of the most famous ballets ever. I've danced some of it, but every dancer knows the story. Now shush. Watch."

He smiled, laying his hand on the arm rest palm up with a question in his eye. I looked at the people around us again and, satisfied that they were all too immersed in the show to notice us, slipped my hand into his.

* * *

x

* * *

Phil insisted on buying us ice cream in the interval even though I complained that they were ridiculously overpriced and we shouldn't encourage them. As we sat discussing the show it was hard not to gush about the technical details, but I found Phil to be surprisingly observant considering he'd referred to it as 'prancing around' and spent a good deal of it taking the piss out of my childlike glee. I'd just finished gabbling about a sequence of thirty two fouettes that left my mouth open wide when I realised Phil had that expression again. The little smile and sparkling eyes.

"What?" I said self consciously.

"Nothing. I just think I've just spent the evening falling in love with you all over again."

I blushed. "Oh shut up."

"I guess I've just been taken over by the magic of the theatre." He grinned. "But seriously, watching you talk like that with so much, I dunno, heart and passion I guess. You're even more beautiful than normal."

My blush deepened and I looked down into my lap. "You've embarrassed me into silence now. No more passion for you."

"Aww I'm sorry." He poked his tongue out the corner of his mouth. "I'll just eat your ice cream while you're too busy being self conscious."

* * *

x

* * *

The dying swan scene. I knew it by heart but having it so close in front of me brought a sensation into my chest that was so hard to describe. To my quiet glee when I snuck a glance at Phil there was moisture glistening in the corners of his rapt, attentive eyes as he gazed in heartbroken wonder at the stage.

Black swans, white swans, tights, mythical creatures, evil wizards... my biggest fear for the evening had been that it would be hard to follow for someone who didn't know the story and Phil would get bored; but as he sobbed quietly into my shoulder I realised how much meaning you can really convey through dance. I wondered what it felt like to get up onto that stage and dance every night. To fly across the stage as part of such a beautiful, passionate whole. Each dancer danced as if it was their last, each face as rapt with emotion as Phil's and mine. He had asked before how the dancers didn't get bored of the same show every night, but I knew I could never be bored of this. Each night is different. While for you it was just another day at work, for the audience it was a special occasion that they were probably saving for and looking forward to for months. I imagined it would be virtually impossible not to be taken over by the magic of the show no matter what you were doing. Even the people right at the back selling programmes had that same glazed look in their eyes and god knows how many times they'd seen the show. The people in the front row that held signs for their favourite performers and queued for hours for their day seats and went as often as they could. The people right up in the dress circle at the very back that probably couldn't see anything besides little white blobs bouncing up and down yet still left with tears in their eyes. And of course the dancers. With their mangled feet and aching limbs that just didn't matter somehow. Phil held my hand and I held his and together we were lost in the dance and the music.

* * *

x

x

x

* * *

**_(I actually had so much fun researching for this chapter that i made a male ballet dance butt appreciation blog balletdancerbooty dot tumblr dot com hehehe)_**

**_This was a 'scene I'd like to see' from KateTheCrazy, if there's anything you want to read just send me a message!_**


	29. Chapter 29

_**This is a) a weird chapter (sorry about that) and b) the length of 3 chapters, i just couldn't split it (sorry about that too) okay so most of this is word vomit (sorry) and a bit shit (sorry) so enjoy (sorry)**_

* * *

x

* * *

The trees were shorter than I remembered them and the forest sparser, light filtering easily down through the canopy to dapple the moss on the ground with yellow and green. Birds sang where before there were gunshots. The wind through the leaves sounded like quiet sighing rather than the screaming that filled my mind and the branches swayed peacefully. Things had changed.

As insects buzzed lazily through the bracken something small rustled by my feet. The boy at my side smiled. He was whistling like a bird, his blue eyes sparkling under the sunshine. I watched him in awe for a moment as he twisted and moulded his lips ever so slightly to imitate the song of a blackbird and the sweet trill of finches. As he whistled a songbird called back, and he smiled again.

I love the smell of the forest. It was an autumn smell; wet and muddy but fresh and lush and green. Like damp leaves. Like animals and birds. Like the musk of the bracken and the wet earth underfoot. Every now and then I caught the scent of an autumn flower still blooming, so sweet I could almost taste it.

Phil and I weren't talking but we didn't need to. We just enjoyed each other's company as someone to walk beside in perfect time. Our feet sunk ever so slightly into the moss and leaves each time we stepped. It was soft and springy, with the occasional crunch of a twig. I let my fingers trail across the tops of the brackens – but warily, keeping a watch for nettles or thorns.

A tangle of vines and ivy fell across the path and we ducked through, the leaves catching my hair and brushing my face.

I love the feel of the forest. The leaves which can be soft or waxy or sharp or delicate. Luscious or decaying. Green or red or orange or brown. The forest floor under my trainers. The crisp air on my face. The soft down of feathers or fur caught on a stray branch and fluttering in the wind. The feeling it creates inside of you. The forest is alive, all round me things are moving - things are growing and living and so am I; part of the forest, if only for a while. I remember taking walks like this with my parents many years ago. I stopped wanting to go, throwing a tantrum whenever they tried to make me leave my play station. But when I was there I always shut up. My dad would look for deer with me and help me find climbing trees while my mum pointed out all the flowers and the toadstools and picked out all the different birds from their song. It was only then, as I walked with Phil, that I realised how much I missed those walks. The walks I had grown out of through laziness but had seemingly grown back into. I made a resolution to take my parents into the woods when they came up at the end of the year for all the formalities. Maybe we'd find some deer, and maybe not.

* * *

x

* * *

Phil led the way. We picked a winding and leisurely path through the trees, not paying much attention, but I knew Phil would find the way home. Behind my head a bird screamed and launched itself into the sky with a beating of heavy wings.

"I think that was a woodpecker." Phil murmured.

I nodded as I watched it go, colourful plumage flashing through the trees.

"We're getting nearer the river. Do you remember? The first time I took you in here? We've been walking a long time."

"Really? How long?" I frowned, looking at my watch. "I didn't even realise. Time doesn't seem to pass in here. At least, not in the same way."

"I don't actually know really." Phil confessed.

I watched a rabbit nibbling on the grass that sprouted up in the middle of the path ahead of us. It watched back, warily, as it chewed.

"I remember. Of course I do. I didn't realise we were all the way over there though."

As we took another step forwards the rabbit finally gave up, bounding into the undergrowth with the flash of its bobbing white tail.

"It's a big forest, but it's long and thin. It doesn't take too long to get from one side to the other." Phil held a sprig of ivy out of the path so that I could walk through. As we rounded the corner and fought our way through the brambles we stopped together, staring.

"It's tempting isn't it." I said quietly.

We'd come to a clearing in the trees where a fallen oak had taken down two smaller birches with it. The resulting pile up was alive with plants and flowers, weaving their way between the branches and matting together at one end to form a veil of soft green specked with white. The oak was hollow and so big you could easily stand inside it, and the resulting scene was like something from a fairytale.

"To just give up on life and spend the rest of your days in here. I reckon we could live in that tree, the hollow one – it almost looks like a house already. It's so beautiful. It must have been very old."

Phil just nodded and I could tell he'd had the same thoughts.

"Let's go look inside." He left my side with a running jump, easily clearing the smallest of the birches.

I followed after with a laugh, catching my foot on a branch and tumbling down to the ground. The moss was soft so I just rolled, green plants gentle against my red face. The tendril of a fern tickled my nose and I snorted, pulling myself back up with a huff.

Phil was perched on the edge of the oak, doubled over with laughter, legs swinging.

"You made it look so easy." I sighed.

"You're supposed to be the graceful one," He giggled. "I haven't done any sports in four years!"

"I'm fine on flat ground." I grumbled. "I just trip over things. I'm naturally clumsy, I can't help it if it's genetic!"

"Butterfingers." Phil teased.

"Shut up." I picked my way carefully over the undergrowth and the criss-cross of branches to join him at the opening of the great tree.

"Hmm." I frowned. "There's a lot of bugs in there."

"I counted three spiders already." Phil grinned.

I cringed. "Maybe not so homely. The outside is nice though."

"I like it here." Phil said. His legs were swinging over the edge of the tree trunk and his pale face was turned to the sky. "There are lots of birds."

I pulled myself up beside him and listened. Somewhere to the left a wood pigeon was cooing, the mournful sound peaceful and breathy. Closer by something smaller and all together shriller trilled incessantly. A warbler warbled. A green finch answered from a branch just a few metres in front of me. A sound as if someone was blowing across the top of a bottle drifted down towards me and I could see Phil's lips move beside me.

"Bittern."

I smiled.

"How do you know?"

"I just do, I guess. I don't know why it matters, knowing the name. It's not like you're ever going to have to introduce yourself. But it's nice."

"It is." I agreed. "It's like you've taken notice of the nature. And that's nice. Not enough people do."

Phil lay back on the wood. It was soft and worn smooth as if hundreds before us had done the same, yet easily strong enough to support us both. I joined him, and we stared through the leaves at the clouds.

"Do you think they care?" Phil asked.

"What?"

"The trees. Do you think they care that most people can't tell what's coniferous and what's hardwood? That barely anyone knows their names? That one day someone might chop them down to make way for a supermarket or make them into paper or just because their roots are messing up the road a little bit? Do you think they care that one day something that stood tall and majestic above them all for hundreds of years could end up as loo roll?"

I snorted. "Well, I don't think they really think anything." My expression softened. "But I think the forest as a whole cares. I think it would care if this tree ended up as a Justin Beiber notebook. Because it was worth so much to so many animals and plants and bugs for so long and suddenly it's, well degraded I guess. Everything in this forest feels safe, as long as there are no humans around. It's like a big balloon of security."

"Yeah I get that feeling too." Phil sighed. "I wonder how long this forest will last before it's chopped down to build an extension for college or a new sports hall or something."

"Is it even owned by Bradfield?" I asked. "I thought we saw a private property sign near the river."

"That's a good point actually." Phil frowned.

"Hey. Don't worry. I don't think it'll be going any time soon."

"I know." Phil's eyes were closed now. "But it's a metaphor for lots of things. Like how you work so hard all your life but you could just die one day, you know. Like Jake and Gabes. Or Jakob. The things they were doing were dangerous but none of them thought they were going to die. They thought they were gonna set their alarm and go to bed and go into college the next day and eat lunch and do their homework and wear a tie and carry on working. But towards what? The future? Is it worth spending your whole life unhappy and overworked because you want a good future, or would it be better to make the most of what you have and take each day as it comes? Because you never know how long you have left. Like, a rogue lion escaped from the zoo could burst out of those trees right now and maul us to death. And then everything we've done would be pointless. It wouldn't have mattered that I screwed up my art because I'd be dead. I would better have spent my time dropping out of school and working for charity and skydiving and having fun and stuff. I'd have made more of an impact that way. Because this way we're investing so much in a future we don't know will ever come. Or maybe we'll mess it up, break a leg and fail all my A levels because I was in hospital. Then you wouldn't get into university so you'd have to leave and go work in McDonald's and suddenly all that work was for nothing, you might as well have dropped out of school and never have had to do an exam and have all that stress. You could have been the first person to climb Everest with your hands tied or something in that time."

The birds sang. Something rustled in the undergrowth, and all was silent for a moment.

"You're working for the dream though." I mused. "It's like when you buy a lottery ticket, you know you won't win but you're paying for the dream. You're paying for one week of fantasies. It's the same principle, you know you're not going to live forever but you want to set yourself up for eternity, just in case. To give you the best possible chance of a perfect infinity. And for the dream. The dream of whatever job you want or whatever house you want and all that. How many kids you want. Where you're going to take them on holiday. If you don't do all that work and just live each day as it comes you're living without responsibility and you can't ever have that dream, not unless you have some sort of super master plan."

Phil's body was warm next to mine. A stray strand of messy black hair tickled my face and I breathed in his scent mixed in with the woody, musky aroma of the oak. A bird flew overhead, silhouetted black against the sky and singing as it passed. Clouds swept across the sky. They formed shapes as they moved; breaking apart and reforming into wisps and spirals and great fluffy lumps. And I lay with my best friend in the world and mused in the quiet tranquillity of the woodland.

* * *

x

* * *

"But it all comes back to the original point, the fundamental need to make a difference on the world. To leave a mark. It's like animals with their scent sprays and stuff. But for us it's more emotional and philosophical I guess." Phil frowned.

"It's a battle though." I said. "The inbuilt selfishness we all have verses that, desire I guess. Because we want to be rich and successful but we also want to do good and we want to be remembered. Some people decide they need to get rich first before they can possibly do any good and others try and live each day, putting the making a mark stuff first. But it's a lot harder for them because they don't have the money to do all the things they want to do."

Phil was pulling a small twig apart with his fingers, twisting and shredding and snapping absentmindedly.

"Which is more important though, you or the world? Most people agree they'd die to save like a big group of people even if they were strangers. You're too harsh on humanity. We have good hearts underneath all the rubbish stuff. I think we do care, really. We do think changing the world is the most important we just have different ways of going about it. And some people never actually get round to doing all the things they wanted to because life is short and stuff gets in the way and it's a lot harder than it seems. You can change the world without doing anything drastic. I think everyone changes the world, even if it's just a tiny bit. It's like they say, you can't change the whole world but you can change it for one person. And that's completely unselfish you know, because you're not expecting anything in return. And you probably don't even know you're doing it. But you _are_ making a difference; you did your part, you made your mark, you won't be forgotten. You lived a life worth living even if it doesn't feel like that."

"Yeah but that's what I mean," I said, rolling over on my side to gaze at Phil's profile outlined against the sky. "Most people die feeling unfulfilled and that life's really too fucking short. Because they haven't done all the things they wanted to and they don't feel like they've made a difference, at least not enough. It's never enough. I bet even Ghandi and Martin Luther King and all of them felt like they still had a long way to go. There's always more you want to change, it's never going to be perfect and you'll never feel like you've done enough. That's why people are selfish a lot of the time, because the task is just too huge to even comprehend so they worry about the little things like their jobs and their relationships and their houses and cars and everything first. Most people just get their heads round it by ignoring the crazy cosmic stuff, it's like how you know the universe is huge and we're spinning around and hurtling through space and gravity and black holes and life and light but we chose to ignore it. Because our brains are too small to take it in. We just ignore it and live on our flat little world with our menial and tedious little worries and dramas because we'd probably go completely crazy if we tried to understand it all and take it all in all the time."

"Yes but that's exactly what I'm saying." Phil stared at the sky and I stared at him. "We can't change the whole wide world – we can barely even comprehend it. But we can do our tiny little menial things in the hope of changing one person's world. We can help, in our petty little lives and dramas. There are some things we don't need to ignore – we're offered the chance to make a difference and this time it's not too big. It might be bigger than anything else in our little lives and it might be scary but we can do it. We can try. And while you may think it's nothing, it's better than nothing. If that makes sense. That's just how I see it anyway, I don't want to live my life without ever trying because the little things I can do aren't nearly big enough. They're little sure, but they're not nothing. They can make a big difference on someone. Like, I don't know. That story of the person who left the note that said 'if someone smiles at me today I won't jump' and he jumped and that's just so sad. Like, it takes nothing at all to smile but people just can't be bothered because they don't think it will make a difference. For that person it did. It was_ their _whole world, literally. You never know when something you're going to do will make a difference and a lot of the time you'll never find out if it did or not, but that's okay because it's better than doing nothing and just sitting in your house all sad because you don't think you can do anything. I'll always try to help, even if I don't think I can."

We lay in silence for a moment. I didn't know how long we'd been here; but the trees were slightly less green than before and Phil's features harder to make out. The sun was falling in the sky and the wind had a chill edge to it that hadn't been there this morning. Dusk was gathering with a cool quietness. The birds flew silently now overhead in formation as they headed home to roost. The day time animals were settling down and the night life was yet to stir. Twilight was coming; in shades of purple and blue and grey. I pulled my coat up tighter around my neck and shuffled a little closer to Phil. He leant his head into my neck and I was glad of the warmth.

"I had a chance to help." I murmured. "But I ran away. I just left that world because he let me go, and I thought it was the right thing to do. Because I didn't belong there. Because I was lost and alone and doing more damage than good and I just wanted to forget it all and go back to complaining about the comforts of my old life."

Phil looked up at me, his blue eyes sparkling in the last of the light. "Are you talking about Knuckles?" He said quietly.

I just nodded, biting my lip, and he lowered his face again into the warmth of my neck, his cold nose sending shivers down my spine.

"He let you go because he wanted to help." Phil said, his voice muffled. I could feel his lips moving against my skin and his warm breath tickled my neck, but not unpleasantly.

"I know." I sighed.

"It's okay, you don't need to feel guilty. He understands now, he doesn't hate you so much anymore. I mean, he's not exactly your biggest fan. But he gets you. I told him it was you who took me to London last week so that he wouldn't bitch about you so much." Phil grinned.

I blinked.

"What?! When did you talk to him? What's going on? He left college!" I tried to use my surprise to hide the guilt that had sprung up inside of me with a ferociousness to envy an angry lion at his words. Hadn't I promised to take him out on dates and start being a proper boyfriend and giving him all the love and attention he deserves? And yet, it was Phil who had taken me out on the super-special-amazing-romantic date. I hadn't even bought him chocolates.

Phil couldn't see my tortured expression, his cold fingers snaking their way in between my own across my chest.

"I- please don't be angry with me, I couldn't just leave. So much was my fault and I was involved, I had to try and make things right." He stared unhappily down at our feet tangled for warmth at the other end of the log.

"I don't understand." I said. "What's been going on?"

"I've been trying to help." Phil sighed. "It's like I was just saying, I can't make things okay for them but I can't not do anything. It's Ellie really, Knuckles and I have been hiding her from her dad. Knuckles is a good guy. He's fucked up but he cares a lot, and he will do whatever he can to try and make the world a bit better for the people he cares about. He feels he owes it to Jake but I think he'd do it anyway, that's just what he's like. Once he's aware of the thing he feels responsible, because you know, if you know about a thing but you don't do anything about it then it's sort of your fault if something goes wrong. Because as soon as you become aware you become responsible because you had the opportunity to help. That's why he's okay with you now, because you really didn't know about most of it. Anyway. Knuckles has called up all his favours from all the hard guys on his estate to protect Ellie now her mum's in hospital. But he has to go to work now he's dropped out of college so I've been going down in free periods just to talk to Ellie so she doesn't get really lonely. And to get food and stuff for her because she's too scared to leave the flat we've put her in, she's being like her mum was and we're really scared she's gonna end up in hospital too. We just want to get her Dad out of the picture really so she can get better without being so scared all the time. It would be easy, we could get him locked up on all sorts of different charges. But it's more complicated than that. I mean, to make sure he actually went to jail rather than just a community order or bail or whatever we'd have to tell them about the abuse. And then Ellie would be brought in and she'd end up in a home and she wouldn't be okay. She really wouldn't. And we need to get her to go back to school before social services start digging but she won't go, she won't even go to the shops with me because she's scared one of her Dad's mates will see her. It's hard you know, it's like you said. We don't know what to do and we're just not doing enough because it's not working and it's not really helping and everything could still go so wrong. We might be able to get him locked up on a drugs bust but then they'd do loads of research on him and realise Ellie's missing." Phil slipped an arm around my waist and I pulled him closer, resting my chin on his head.

"I don't know what to do Dan." He sighed. "She wouldn't last one day in a kid's home. But we can't do anything without the authorities finding out. Even if we do manage to get her back at school her Dad might find her there. Or her teachers will see how bad she is and call social services themselves or worse still call her Dad. We can't hide her forever. And if they find out we were looking after her we might get in trouble too. It's hard Dan. I just don't know what the right thing to do is."

My arms were around him and I held him close. There was only one thing of which I was certain. Running away had been the wrong thing to do. I was pathetic and a coward, I had jumped at Knuckles' offer of freedom and tried to escape the responsibility that had been thrown upon me as soon as I'd found out, it was just like Phil said. Only I didn't try and help. I fled because I'm weak. But Phil was right again, I had a chance to put things right. To try and do something to help and maybe it would work out and maybe it wouldn't but at least I'd tried.

I gave Phil a squeeze.

"I don't know either. But I'm going to help."

"Huh? No, Dan you're out of this now. You're free – you don't have to worry about it anymore. It's way too dangerous, if you got a criminal record your life would be ruined." Phil propped himself up on an elbow to look earnestly into my eyes.

"In the least cheesy way possible, my life's with you at the moment. Regardless of anything else - fuck if you're in prison then I'd want to be there too."

"It doesn't quite work like that." Phil grinned. "I don't think you get to chose."

"I know but I mean it, I really do. I love you. I really love you like properly, but even if I didn't I'd still want to help because it's the right thing to do. I felt awful about running away and just forgetting it like that, it's not something I can ignore and I want to try and help. You know, to make a difference." I stared back, trying to convey the seriousness in my mind.

"What brought this on?" Phil grinned, still blushing from the love proclamation.

"I don't know," I lied, "I don't say it enough. But I love you. I love with all my heart. Honestly I do Phil, you're like no one else."

Phil tried to roll his eyes but the huge grin across his face ruined it a little.

"I love you too silly. Lots and lots. But are you sure about this? It's not something you can get out of – I wouldn't throw that kind of, freedom of responsibility away easily."

"I'm sure." I said, determined. "I want to help. I feel awful for Ellie. No one deserves to go through that."

"Kay." Phil said, laying back down at my side again. "You can come with me tomorrow, Knuckles will be there. He'll probably be mean to you so like, don't take it personally okay? He finds it really hard. You know, spending time with me after... everything that happened. Having you there won't help so maybe try not to be too affectionate and stuff okay? Just to make it better for him. I still feel awful. But I think he knew it would never have worked with us, he just didn't want to never have had tried."

I nodded as I joined him, curling up against his warm body. Our breath was starting to come out as white fog in front of our faces and my toes were probably turning blue. Twilight was around us. The trees cast long shadows on the ground and the sun had almost set somewhere behind the hills. Different birds were calling now and I distinctly caught the doleful hoot of an owl. The creatures that rustled in the bushes were slower and softer and a kind of muffled peace had settled on the clearing where we lay in silence atop a fallen tree amidst a circle of undergrowth. As I listened I could just make out the trickle of a stream in the distance.

I stared out at the blackened valley floor, the cascading hillocks and the peach tinted horizon. Closer at hand I watched a tiny spider struggle to weave a web between the cracks by my head with a nervous fascination. Time passed here, but it wasn't measured by clocks and timetables and dinner time and breakfast. It was measured in fading light and sleeping birds. By the stars that were just starting to push their way through the darkening clouds and the pale moon that had risen next to Phil's head when I wasn't looking. Time passed with running water and crawling bugs and flower buds that opened and closed. It passed with dew drops and night time frosts. It was like a whole new world. It wouldn't take much to change this world, just a couple of trucks and some concrete. I sort of wished this was the world that mattered because the outside one was hideously scary and endlessly out of my depth. But at some point I would have to grow up and learn to grasp it with both hands, and this was as good a time as any.

* * *

x

* * *

"How long have you been looking after Ellie?" I asked. The dusk was beginning to fade into night time and silence had settled around us bar the rustling of wind in the trees.

"Since Jake died." Phil shrugged.

I frowned.

"I think that's the difference between us." There was no need to speak loudly, in the half light my voice carried with the wind. "You're a good person. You don't think about yourself or anything like that you just think 'that's not okay, I need to help'. You care a lot and so do I I'm just not a strong person. I'm weak, you know. It's not just confidence it's like, I don't know how to say it. But I need people. I depend on people to be okay, I don't trust myself. So when it comes to other people I never know what to do and I always think I'm going to mess things up and make it worse you know? My first thought is never 'how can I help them' it's 'oh god that's so sad.' Whereas with you, helping people and caring for them is literally inbuilt in you – you don't even think you just do. It's your nature, you can't watch suffering and you're always looking for ways to help even if has nothing to do with you. I don't just mean this, but like when we're watching the telly – remember that David Attenborough documentary? The one with the ducks? And he was explaining how the eggs get abandoned and I was just like aww that's so sad and the next time I saw ducks I thought about it but I didn't actually do anything. And then I came up to the dorm after lunch and there you were just sitting there with those tiny little eggs under your desk lamp. Like, you did that. You found out about something and automatically went out to the river to see if there were any you could help and it just never would have crossed my mind. Sure if I'd stumbled across them I probably would have picked them up and taken them to the RSPCA or something but I never would have gone out looking. And you were just there with fucking duck eggs all cuddled up on your lap to keep them warm while you tried to get that lamp to work. I don't know Phil. I don't know how you do it, how you stay so strong all the time. You just wade right into all this messed up shit to help a girl you don't even know without even thinking about it and I love you, okay."

Phil took my face between his hands. "Dan. Firstly I love you, of course I do. And secondly you're not weak – not even slightly. Aren't you forgetting something? You walked into that estate in the middle of the night all by yourself fully expecting to be brutally beaten to death in order to spare me a relatively small amount of shit. You're strong and selfless, just in different ways. I don't think I could have done that. Mainly because I'm not as stupid as you but that's beside the point."

I rolled my eyes, trying to pull my head from his hands but he held me tight, leaning in slowly to press his cold lips to mine. His nose was going slowly from pink to red and it was like an icicle against my cheek. As he pulled away I touched it gently with my finger and he wrinkled his face up.

"You look like a hamster." I giggled.

"Your nose it cold." He said.

"So's yours!"

"It's getting dark. We might get lost on the way back, I'm not really sure where we are."

"You have a general idea though, right?" I raised my eyebrows.

"Ish."

"That's good enough for me. Can we stay a little longer? It's nice here."

"It really is getting cold though."

"Why don't we go inside the tree and huddle? It'll be warmer in there."

"What about the bugs?"

"They'll all be sleeping by now."

"Do bugs even sleep?"

"They have to don't they? It's one of the seven signs of life."

"So they're all curled up in their little bug beds with hot chocolate."

"Exactly. Come on, let's go. Bugs don't matter if you don't know they're there. It's like how in London you're never more than 6m from a rat but as long as you're not actually aware of them you don't mind."

"Rat's are fine. There's nothing wrong with rats, I used to have a pet rat after all my hamsters died."

"You disgust me Philip Lester."

"They're actually very clean."

"They carry diseases."

"It was _one_ time."

"It was the fucking plague Phil."

"Not their fault."

"Half the population died."

"Was it really half though?"

"I don't know. Shut up. Let's go sit in a tree."

Phil chuckled as he led the way, parting the veil of green vines to stoop through the entrance. I followed, blinking in the darkness.

"I literally can't see anything." I mumbled, my voice echoing around the hollow wood.

"Good. That means you won't see the giant tarantula you're about to sit on then." Phil Pulled me down beside him.

"Shut up."

"Or the snake that just slithered past your ankle."

"Fuck. Do you think there are actually snakes in here?" I said, my voice panicked.

"Probably. There's loads of snakes in the woods people just don't realise. They think all the snakes live in Australia. But we get loads of adders and stuff."

"Aren't adders poisonous though right?"

"Only a little. I mean, you only might die, if you get to hospital in time they can usually save you."

"Thanks Phil. You're doing a great job."

"Love you."

"Love you too. I hate you though."

"That's my line!"

"Not when you're the one being mean."

"Not mean, just facts."

"Scary facts."

"Are you scared?"

"No." (I wasn't fooling Phil.)

"Oh Dan. Come here, I'm sorry, it's okay. As long as you make plenty of noise the adders stay out of your way – it's just when you step on them that they get angry. Anyway they won't be in here, they'll be out looking for prey."

Phil's arms were warm and comforting around me and I cursed myself silently for being such an idiot.

"I'm not _really_ scared. Just suddenly worried. Fine now though. You're warm. Also I was right, it's a lot warmer in here."

"That's all the snakes keeping it warm."

"Fuck you. Snakes are cold blooded anyway – ha!"

"Bears aren't though."

"No bears in England."

"There's badgers though."

"Badgers are cuddly."

"Not when they're angry. Did you hear about that woman who got mauled to death by a badger in- OW!"

Darkness descended on the clearing. In the trees a startled deer dropped the leaf she was munching on in surprise as a black log in the middle of the undergrowth suddenly started squealing. As the squeals subsided new noises started that were even more alarming than the last. It made the doe think of the sounds she'd hear if the leaf started trying to eat her back. It sounded wet and incredibly inappropriate for a peaceful forest dwelling oak. The deer shook her head in disgust and resumed her munching.

She was just preparing to head off in search of a better tree for dinner when the silence was broken once more by a feral scream.

"THERE'S A FUCKING LEECH ON MY-"


End file.
